The Thinner Blue Line (FBI AU)
by SodaDrow
Summary: Annie's mission was simple: Infiltrate the 104th Street Gang and prove their connection to The Legion, an organization so skilled that their existence has become an urban myth. For the disgraced FBI agent, this case seemed like the perfect opportunity to save her fading career. That is, until she realized that the members of the 104th aren't the only monsters prowling the streets.
1. Welcome to New York

**Hello and welcome to _The Thinner Blue Line_! If you're new, welcome in and I hope you enjoy! If you've read this before than I suggest reading through once more as I have made some substantial edits to chp 1 through 5. I hope the new additions and revisions will improve the quality of this little fic of mine! **

**-Enjoy!**

* * *

 ** _Be careful who you choose for an enemy because that is who you become most like... -_** Friedrich Nietzche

* * *

 _ **Tuesday 22:30, January 23rd... John F. Kennedy Airport, New York City**_

* * *

"Special Agent Leonhardt?"

Annie Leonhardt's eyes drifted away from her phone and settled on the man addressing her. She nodded at him idly and he visibly relaxed his posture, obviously relieved to find her.

"Hello, I'm Special Agent Braun." The man introduced himself with a wide smile, "You can call me Reiner. Special Agent Dok sent me to pick you up."

Reiner reached down and picked up her briefcase, "I heard good things about you from your former office, an-"

He was interrupted by Annie when she impatiently snatched her briefcase out of his hand, "You're late, Special agent. I was supposed to be picked up two hours ago." She said, a scowl forming on her face.

"Yeah, sorry about that." Reiner said as his smile faltered and he suddenly looked sheepish, if it was possible for a six-foot tall, broad-shouldered man in a black suit to look sheepish. "My partner and I just got back from a stake-out; and traffic at this time is a bitch. Which by the way is why we need to get back to the office, Special Agent Dok would like to brief you personally."

Reiner started walking before he finished speaking, and fished out a smartphone from his pocket. Annie shifted the suitcase strap over her shoulder and followed, looking much more casual than her counterpart in her jeans and blue sweater. She hadn't felt the need to dress by regulation as she assumed that she would have a half-day to herself before reporting to her new SAIC*, however she had massively overslept and was forced to take a later flight, and to top off her bad first impression, most of her luggage had been lost upon arrival.

 _Thank god they let me take my service pistol with me. Perks of being FBI, I guess._

Night had fallen and airport was bustling with families and businessmen reading themselves for their late night flight. Annie felt discomforted by the sheer amount of people surrounding them, but Reiner's bulk cleared a path like an icebreaker and the much smaller Annie simply walked slightly behind him.

"Hey Bert, I found her." Reiner exclaimed suddenly, slightly startling Annie, "Are you at the car?"

A muffled voice answered back from his phone, and Annie couldn't even begin to make out what was being said thanks to the sound of the crowd.

"We'll be outside in a minute." Reiner answered, "What? Say that again, man. I didn't catch that."

He listened closely before turning back to her, "Do you have anymore luggage?"

She shook her head tersely in response.

Reiner smiled in relief and brought the phone back to his ear, "No, she travels light apparently." He said, "We're almost outside, I'll see you in a bit."

Two minutes later, the pair of them were standing in front of a white phone company van parked in the edge of the airport car park.

"What is this?" Annie deadpanned.

"I told you, we just got off surveillance duty." He patted the van fondly, "Yeah, Bert and I spend a lot of time in this baby. Hell, we even have a couch in there!"

Annie sighed, "Where's your partner? We need to get going."

"Sorry! I'm coming!" A raspy voice called out from behind them.

Annie turned and watched as an extremely tall and lanky man jogged up to them. He wore black slacks and a white dress shirt, which clung to his body due to the rivers of sweat pouring off him. His underarm holster slapping against his torso as he hurried over.

"Special Agent Leonhardt." Reiner clapped the man on shoulder, "This is my partner, Special Agent Bertholdt Hoover!"

"Please call me Bert." Bertholdt said, smiling around the cigarette in his mouth, "You OK with riding shotgun? The back of the van is a safety hazard right now, I… uh… kinda broke the screws holding the couch to the floor..."

"Fuck." Reiner groaned.

* * *

 _ **Tuesday 23:40, January 23rd… On the road to New York City FBI office**_

* * *

Rain streaked down the windshield while Bert swerved through the midnight traffic, speeding past cars and trucks with reflexes of gymnast. Annie gazed out the window, disinterestedly inspecting the dark outlines of the skyscrapers. She was trying to ignore the sounds of Reiner grunting from the back of the van. The large man was seated on the floor, a desk overflowing with computer monitors, recording equipment, and junk food on one side; and a large sofa on the other. His back was flat against the couch and he held it in place by bracing his legs against the opposite side of the truck, pinning the loose couch in place.

Honestly listening to the man's groans would have been amusing if not for the length of drive.

"Is it normal for Agent Dok to meet new agents this late?" Annie asked, pale blue eyes closing in exhasution.

"Yep, Agent Dok pretty much works exclusively at night." Bertholdt said, "He got sick of people whispering behind his back. You should get used to working graveyard shift too, Agent Leonhardt."

"Fine with me." She murmured.

 _Keeping pointless social interaction to a minimum sounds too good to be true. Maybe this won't be so bad._

"So, uh…" Bertholdt mumbled, "Who did you piss off to get yourself assigned to the Legion case?"

Annie glowered at him, "Excuse me?"

"Uh, sorry…" He glanced at her nervously, "Just trying to make conversation..."

"What Bert is _trying_ to say."Reiner called out, "Is that the Legion case is basically a career graveyard."

Annie shifted uncomfortably in her seat to look back at him, but she wasn't quite able to see the man due to her small stature and him lying almost spread eagle on the ground against the couch. "What do you mean?"

"The Legion doesn't actually exist." Reiner declared.

"Reiner!" Bertholdt reprimanded, "We don't know that!"

"What the hell are you two talking about?" Annie demanded, suddenly very ill at ease.

 _Seems I spoke to soon._

Reiner pulled himself up so that he could see her in the rear-view mirror, "OK, so basically our SAIC has spent the past decade of his life trying to prove that a secret, multi-national, crime syndicate called 'The Legion' is responsible for every crime that goes down in the western world. Everything from credit frauds to smuggling chemical weapons in the Baltic's."

"Not every crime…" Bertholdt corrected, "But a sizable chunk of it is supposedly connected to them."

"Anyway." Reiner continued, "According to Dok, The Legion separates itself into hundreds of smaller gangs, spread all over the world, and those gangs go out and make heaps of money and then send a portion of that money up the command chain to the head honchos."

"They have a command chain?" Annie asked dubiously.

"Yeah, apparently these guys are more organized than our government." Reiner snorted, "Honestly I think our SAIC believes that they might _be_ our government!"

Bertholdt snickered, "Let's not forget about the death squads that leave no evidence behind."

"Death squads?" Annie blinked in disbelief, "You mean like the death squads in Central America?"

"Worse, apparently. I think I heard Dok talk about how an entire police station in rural Russia disappeared over a weekend. Never to be found." Reiner was snickering like a madman now, and Bertholdt was smiling widely. "They basically have the boogieman working for them! The whole idea is ridiculous honestly."

"So our job is to uncover a organization that probably doesn't exist and is headed by an Agent that has spent over a decade investigating and so far has found fuck all. " Annie growled, her bored expression giving way to her trademark scowl, "Why the hell is the FBI funding this shit?"

Suddenly their lighthearted snickering died off and Reiner and Bertholdt gave each other uneasy looks in the rear-view mirror. It was obvious that they were thinking about how to word the answer to avoid angering their new co-worker.

"Well, when I said that this case is literally a career graveyard, I meant it." Reiner said.

"They assign it to agents that the brass want out of the way." Bertholdt sadly admitted, he paused for a moment as he drove to an off-ramp, "Because they can't legally fire said agent and no office in the country wants to work with them, they lump the agents into a case that has almost no funding and no support from the rest of the Bureau."

"Until the agent quits," Reiner snarled from the back, "With no benefits or pension."

"Reiner and I have worked the case for about a year now." Bertholdt admitted, he sent a sad sidelong glance at Annie, "You're the fourth agent we worked with since we got here."

The mood in the van turned much more oppressive as the three agents retreated into their own thoughts. Annie in particular was stunned, the idea that her years of service and undercover work would be for naught. Memories of violence and inhuman cruelty flashed in her mind, a gift of her life as an undercover agent. Then the moment that brought her here carved its way into her mind's eye.

* * *

 _Annie frantically pushed down on the blood-soaked cloth in her hands, trying desperately to slow the flow of crimson life-blood from the woman lying limply in the alley. Rainwater soaked Annie's clothing and hair, streaming down her face and into her eyes, blinding her._

" _Medic! I need a FUCKING MEDIC HERE NOW!" Annie yelled over her shoulder, the alley walls illuminated by red and blue flashing lights. She could barely hear her own voice over the clashing of rain on the pavement and the crack of gunshots surrounding them._

 _A quiet, strangled cough came from the woman shaking in agony under her hands. Annie pushed harder on the bullet wound as more blood oozed from between her fingers and stained the blue uniform shirt deep carmine._

" _An...nie…?" A weak, raspy voice cut into her thoughts, "Annie…what… ha...happened?"_

 _The puddle Annie knelt in swirled with lifeblood as the dying woman twitched and spasmed in pain._

" _Don't talk. You've been shot and the bullet is still inside you. Just focus on breathing." Annie instructed, miraculously able to keep her voice from shaking. "Focus on breathing and staying awake, I know you can do that Officer Carolina. I know you can bounce back from this!"_

" _I...got...shot?" Officer Carolina whispered, a look of concern appeared on her face, "Wha...Why?"_

 _Annie felt a wave of guilt grab hold of her emotions and constrict around her heart. She almost choked as she felt the young police officer's hand weakly grasp at her arm._

" _Please don't talk." Annie begged, her voice finally breaking. "I'm sorry, Mina. I'm so sorry. I didn't know it was you."_

* * *

"Agent Leonhardt? Hello, are you alright?" Bertholdt asked, staring at her with concern in his eyes.

Annie snapped out of the memory, quickly scanning her surroundings. The van had parked in the FIB office's indoor parking garage, Reiner had gotten out and was busy stretching out the kinks in his limbs. Besides a few black SUV's parked on the far side the garage, the place was empty.

Bertholdt gazed at the small blonde agent before sighing, "Look, Leonhardt. I know it seems like getting assigned to this case is the end, and an unfair one at that. But we swore an oath when we signed up, right?" Bertholdt brought his hand to his temple in a lazy salute. "Even if our assignment is a farce, we still catch criminals. We can still help people."

Annie stared back, her scowl never leaving her face, "I don't help people, Agent." She said, "My job is to find the worst people this city has offer and then pretend to be their friend until I hand them over to the judges."

Annie opened the car door, stepped out and slung her briefcase over her shoulder.

"Do you know the fastest way to gain a criminal's trust, agent?" She asked.

"No." Bertholdt answered, "I've never been undercover."

"You make them fear you." She said, and closed the door.

* * *

 _ **Tuesday 24:00, January 23rd… Warehouse district, the Docks**_

* * *

Mikasa carefully loaded bullets into another blocky, long magazine. At her feet lay a duffel bag, filled to burst with more magazines of various shape and size.

"We have enough ammunition, Mikasa?" Sasha asked, as she readjusted herself in the backseat.

Mikasa halted her preparations to take in her surroundings. She was sitting in the front of a stolen sedan, currently driving down a utility road to the warehouses. Sitting behind her was Sasha, dressed in black clothing and snacking on candy bar. Connie was sitting next to Sasha, also wearing black clothes and busy loading shells into his Mossberg 500 shotgun. He gave Mikasa a cocky smile when he noticed her bored expression watching him.

She looked both them over with a critical eye, making sure that they had brought the required gear and judging whether or not they were prepared for the upcoming fight. It was her obligation as lieutenant to make sure that every member of the 104th street gang was ready and willing to kill and die for each other.

 _They seem to be acceptably prepared. But I wish we had more firepower._

"We might need it." Mikasa explained, holding up the magazine in her hand, "We're not shooting up another drug deal here. Titans are reportedly much harder to kill than gangbangers."

"Don't worry, Mikasa." The driver cut in, slapping his gloved hand on the wheel, "Doesn't matter how tough those assholes are, we're not stopping until we empty each and every one of those mags into a Titan!"

Mikasa turned her attention back to loading her magazine, "Eren, there's over a thousand rounds of ammunition in this bag. The cops would be there before we could finish."

 _And the barrels of our weapons would melt._

She finished loading the last bullet then slid the magazine into her MAC-10 and locked the bolt back, "We have to do this quickly. Drive up, kill them, get the package, then get out."

Eren pulled out his Anaconda revolver and flicked the chamber out to check his bullet count. "Well this forty-four Magnum round will definitely make sure they don't get back up. Ymir said that she bought these from a big game hunter, special order for more tumble and tearing."

"Hope it was worth the money. Pull over here, I see a vantage point." Mikasa pointed at a mass of shipping containers, stacked at least four stories tall. They towered over the surrounding low warehouses and would be perfect perch for a sniper. The rain would make the climb treacherous and negatively impact visibility, but she trusted Sasha's abilities.

The car pulled over and Sasha reached into her sweater pocket to pull out a black balaclava. She pulled it over her face, cursing loudly in Russian as her reddish-brown hair got in the way. Connie chuckled lightly at his best friend's inconvenience.

"We're on frequency two, get set up and radio when you see the titans." Eren said, handing her a small walkie-talkie, "We'll pick you up from here when it's done. Good hunting!"

Sasha got out of the car and ran to the trunk, pulling it open and retrieving a scoped Model 700 rifle from inside. She then quietly closed the trunk and ran to the containers to begin her climb.

"You think it's smart to have her go alone?" Connie asked with concern as they pulled away to continue deeper in to the yard.

"Course, man. She's done harder shit than this when she was in the Baltic's." Eren accelerated down the street, leaving the shipping crates behind. "This probably seems like a Sunday stroll to her."

"There wasn't any motherfucking Titans in the Baltic's, Eren!" Connie protested, nervously fiddling with his holstered sidearm.

 _And there isn't going to be any here if we do this right._

"She'll be fine, Connie." Mikasa shushed him, "We're here. The warehouse is right there."

Eren turned the car and cruised down a side alley until they idled behind the warehouse.

He cut the engine. "We'll circle back on foot once they open up the front door. Surprise will be on our side. " He said, green eyes shining with concentration, "Remember what our client said, we gotta destroy the nape of their necks. Otherwise they're gonna keep getting up. We move as soon as our sniper sees them."

Mikasa and Connie nodded in understanding.

Minutes ticked by as they waited for Sasha to call in, making the three of them impatient and twitchy. Eren repeatedly flicked his revolver's safety on and off, producing a loud clicking sound that filled the car, almost covering the sound of water pounding on the car's roof. Mikasa sat almost perfectly still, her expression bored and uninterested, as she prepared herself mentally for the fight. She wondered what was taking the titans so long.

Suddenly Connie got an urge to fill the silence, "Wonder what the hell _are_ titans anyway; I mean once somebody can survive a 12 gauge to the face they're not exactly human anymore, right?" He said, leaning back into his seat. Mikasa thought she detected a tremble in his voice, betraying his nervousness.

"I hear ya, man." Eren agreed, "Fuck, you'd think the shiteaters up in congress would have SWAT dudes kicking in doors left and right to weed those cocksuckers out. They can't keep covering up what's going down. Has any news station ran a story about titans yet?" He directed the question at his lieutenant.

Mikasa shook her head, "I had Jean pump one of his media contacts for info-"

Eren snorted at the mention of that cocky con-artist. The two of them have never seen eye-to-eye.

"-mation. Most of the stories get buried, unless there's a substantial amount of casualties." She said, "Then some government suits gets involved and cover it up. Blame the homegrown crazies. Probably trying to avoid a panic."

Connie leaned forward in between the front seats, "People are panicking anyway, when's the last time either of you saw anybody outside after dark?" He declared, "There was a mass-stabbing a few days ago. Some crazy motherfucker ran into a shop and stabbed six people before the cops blew him away!"

"Our client said that titans were responsible for the San Francisco bombings." Mikasa added quietly, "And the Baton Rouge shootings. Probably more."

"Body counts just going to keep rising." Eren said, his teeth gritted so hard that the words came out as a growl, "This shit's been happening since we were kids, Mikasa. Ten years of shootings, bombs, serial killings…"

 _You don't have to remind me, Eren._

Eren reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small ziploc bag filled with dull white crystals, then fished out two of them and placed them on the car's center console.

Mikasa, noticing what he was doing, deftly snatched them in her hand, "Eren! Now is not the time to get high! You got to get a handle on this before it kills you!" She said, her facade of calm slipping in concern for him.

"I'll take some uppers if I fucken' want!" Eren growled and grabbed Mikasa's arm, holding it with a vice-like grip, "You ain't my mom or my boss so step off an' hand over my goddamn crank!"

Mikasa flinched at Eren's anger and she felt a surge of guilt for playing the overprotective sibling again. She and Eren had been together ever since they were small children, she felt it was her responsibility to protect him. However, Eren was the leader of the 104th and she couldn't disobey his orders, even if they were flawed.

 _But still... I can't just sit here and let him get high before a mission! Impaired judgement does not help in a fight._

Seeing Mikasa hesitate, Eren held out his other hand, palm up, and a hint of warmth overshadowed the starved look in his eyes. "We can talk about this later." He said, "After we got back to the safe house, yeah?"

 _You mean like last time? I convinced you to throw out your stash but you just bought more the next day..._

Mikasa broke eye contact and nodded, before haltingly dropping the meth into Eren's hand in defeat. He let go of her forearm and once again placed the crystals carefully on the console. He drew his switchblade and crushed the crystals with it's pommel before scooping a healthy amount onto the blade and, closing a side of his nose with one hand, he inhaled the powder.

"Oohh, _fffuuuck_ …" He moaned, pinching his nose shut and shaking violently as the meth coursed through his system. Mikasa looked away, focusing instead on the deluge of rain drops sliding down the windshield.

A minute passed, as Eren sat draped onto his seat with a look of ecstasy on his face. Connie sat quietly in the back, his usual good humor gone.

Then Sasha's voice cut in through the walkie-talkie, "They are here." She reported, "Counting six, repeat six. One armed with a kalashnikov rifle, no other visible weapons."

Eren grabbed the walkie, "You're on overwatch." He ordered, as he opened the car door and began motioning to his companions. "Let's move!"

Mikasa pulled her mask on and made sure her red scarf was safely hidden behind the high collar of her jacket before grabbing her duffel bag and following after Eren. The cold air slammed into her, the early winter chill setting in.

The rain mercilessly pounded down on them as they jogged down the alley between two warehouses, the sound of their passage concealed by the crash of raindrops striking metal. Their weapons held ready, the three masked gangsters rounded the final corner. In front of them stood six men with their backs turned, too busy trying to break into a steel safe to notice the threat.

Mikasa's dark eyes snapped to her first target a split-second before her weapon barked out a burst of automatic fire. The 9mm hollow-point bullets slammed into the target, tearing through muscles and organs like a lightning-fast chainsaw. The target, a tall man holding the AK and wearing a out-of-state college hoodie, collapsed under assault and twitched feebly on the warehouse floor.

"WHAT THE F-?!" Another yelled, right before Eren's first bullet literally shredded his neck and lower jaw.

The third went down as Connie fired his shotgun into their head, sending teeth, blood, and brains flying across the room while the headless corpse groped the air for split second. It collapsed into a leaking heap.

Mikasa re-adjusted her fire, this time emptying her magazine into a tall man whose face was covered in tribal tattoos, before gracefully sliding behind a stack of crates for cover. Connie followed after firing a few shells, none of them hitting their targets but scaring the shit out of their enemies.

The two remaining men cowered, seemingly shell-shocked by the sudden onset of combat. One of them clumsily fumbled with a pistol in his waistband while the other sprinted towards the giant open warehouse door in a frantic bid to escape.

Eren was faster though. He stood in the open, shaking with manic energy and excitement as he smoothly brought his magnum to bear and fired. The .44 caliber round hit the running man with force of a runaway train, ripping the his leg in half at the mid-thigh. Eren's second round destroyed the screaming man's ribcage as he lay on the floor.

Mikasa ejected the spent mag and deftly reloaded, her movements so efficient and practiced, that the whole process was finished before the last foe could finish drawing his handgun. She calmly took aim and sent another burst through the man's chest and head, killing him.

"EAT SHIT AND DIE YOU TITAN FUCKS!" Eren yelled, fist pumping in the air in victory.

Mikasa stood up slowly, caution dictating her to be skeptical of their easy victory. Her dark eyes searched for any more foes as a ringing sense of danger still radiated throughout her skull.

 _That was too easy. Something's up._

She ignored Connie as he jogged to join in celebrating with Eren. Instead she walked cautiously towards the group of dead and dying men. The man with whom she shot first feebly spasmed and coughed as he desperately fought to breath with his perforated lungs.

Mikasa let the MAC-10 hang from it's one-point sling and dropped the duffel bag of supplies onto the floor, her eyes revealed no emotion as she examined her rapidly expiring enemy. The man's eyes shot open and fixated on her; full of tears and pleading with her for help. Mikasa ignored his gurgling pleas and simply examined the blood pooling around him.

Behind her Eren and Connie finished slapping each other on the back and started investigating the damaged safe; and just as Mikasa was about to go and join them, a realization stormed into her mind. She stood over the man, drew her knife, and roughly cut his hoodie down the middle, revealing the many weeping wounds she inflicted. Her victim raised his hand to reach out to her and she idly knocked it away with a lazy swat of her knife, while she analyzed the bullet wounds for any traces of rapid healing.

She found none, double checked to make sure the man's nape was still intact, and then stuck her gloved pointer and middle finger into the highest bullet hole. The man's eyes sealed shut in pain as she stretched the skin apart to see inside; the flesh inside was a soaked in a dark, sluggish flow of blood.

 _No evidence of mending, the bullet flowered and kept going. This man is going to die. He's no titan._

"Echo! Charlie!" She called to Eren and Connie, using phonetic letters to avoid using their names, "We have a problem here."

Eren ran over to her, magnum in hand, and did a double take when he saw Mikasa's fingers pulling apart a bullet wound. "What the fuck are you doing?" He demanded still riding the high of adrenaline and meth.

"Checking the wound." She answered plainly, "These guys weren't titans."

Eren's eyes widened in surprise for a moment before glaring at her, "What are you talking about?"

"They don't heal." She said, pulling her fingers out and wiping the blood digits off on his hoodie, "And one tried to run, our client said that real titans will continue to fight even when they lose limbs." She gestured to the six dead men around them, "They didn't exactly seem fearless or pain resistant to me."

Eren swore, his fists clenched in anger, "That motherfucker lied to us! He said there would be real, honest-to-god titans here, and all we get are these mooks."

"We can deal with the client later, Echo." Mikasa said, keeping her voice calm, "Let's get that safe open and focus on getting paid, alright?"

Behind them Connie finished opening the safe and searched inside. "Found the package!" He called out, holding a small leather briefcase up in his hand.

Mikasa sheathed her knife, "We should go before the cops get here, Echo." She took a step back from the dying man, then suddenly swung her leg up in high kick and slammed her heel into the man's forehead, shattering the back of his skull against the hard concrete with a wet crunch.

Eren nodded in agreement, holstering his magnum and scooped up the fallen AKM assault rifle in his other hand, "Our client needs to get his fucking facts straight, we've been looking for titans for months and he has the balls to lie-."

" _Contact."_ Sasha's voice erupted from walkie-talkie clipped to Eren's belt, Mikasa froze when she heard the alarm in her voice. "Black van coming your way, 50 seconds ETA!"

 _Looks like these guys had backup ready._

"Charlie!" Eren shouted, his voice deepening as he sprang into command, "Close the warehouse gate and jam the lock! Mike, push those crates around the side door to use as cover!"

Mikasa and Connie ran to do as their leader ordered, while Eren pulled the walkie from his belt and said, "Sierra, hold your fire until half of them go through the side door; you'll be the first to fire, take the driver out first, copy?"

"Copy."

Thirty seconds later, Mikasa heard the sound of screeching brakes outside the now shut main doors. The three gangsters hid behind sturdy crates, waiting silently for their enemies to open the door.

But when the door was shouldered open, all three froze with horror at what came through.

The thing resembled a wax sculpture left too long in an oven, it's head too large for it's drooping body. It had no hair and in it's hand it held a long piece of rebar, stained red on both ends.

Mikasa felt her gut twist in disgust as a second titan lurched inside. This one had to duck get through the door as it would tower over any other man by a full head, and it's face was concealed by a mane of grey hair. Both of them wore nothing but torn jeans and seemed both malnourished and elephantine at once.

A third one started to enter but stopped. This one sported a long black beard and it's dark skin was surrounded by a thin veil of steam. It gazed around the warehouse dumbly before inhaling a mouthful of air.

"Blood." It wheezed loudly, "Spread out. Find. Kill!"

Eren covertly begun to shoulder his new AKM, sighting in on the bearded titan. Mikasa watched carefully as a look of absolute hate filled his intense turquoise eyes, she knew dark memories were haunting him now.

Crack!

From outside Sasha fired, the 7.62x51mm round pulverizing the driver's head before the slow minded titans could hear the sound of the shot.

"Now!" Eren yelled and squeezed the trigger, bathing the bearded titan in bullets as Mikasa and Connie began emptying their magazines into the other two.

Limbs, meat, bone, and blood flew through the air as the titans were butchered by their bullets and buckshot. The titan bodies flopped onto the ground, steam spilling out into the air. Outside Sasha killed the fourth and final titan just as their weapons clicked empty.

"Did we get 'em?" Connie asked, looking stupefied that everything had worked as planned.

Eren walked up to examine the spreading pool of gore and glared at the reeking piles before discarding the now-empty rifle, "I think so." He turned back to his friends, "That was easier than expec- _WHA_!"

Mikasa felt her blood run cold as she watched a titan seize Eren by his belt and pull him to floor. It's hand, missing two fingers, wrapped around Eren's neck like a vice. Mikasa and Connie froze in horror as the titan pulled itself on top of him; it's shattered hip-bones, gore-filled intestines, and destroyed legs dragging onto him like a macabre blanket.

 _Oh no no no no no!_

"Hold on!" Mikasa shouted and lunged forward. She grabbed the titan around it's bloated torso and tried to pull it off Eren. The thing was much lighter than she thought it would be but it was also much stronger too. She braced her feet on either side and redoubled her attempt to tear it off of Eren, however keeping hold off a wriggling mass of killer flesh was no easy task at the best of times and doing it while struggling to maintain footing on a blood-slick floor makes it almost impossible.

"Move so I can shoot the fucker!" Connie yelled, drawing his sidearm and taking aim at the titan.

Mikasa almost panicked, "Don't! You might hit Eren!" She gasped, shifting her hold into a sleeper hold in a desperate bid to keep it's snapping, too-wide jaws from her adopted brother's face. She heard more movement, she shot a glance up and gaped as the bearded titan drunkenly pulled itself to it's feet. Missing both it's arms and most of it's innards; it slowly exhaled a cloud of steam and charged for her. "Shoot that one!" She ordered, hoping that Connie could hear her over the sound of the struggle.

Apparently he had as Mikasa heard five quick cracks as Connie blew out both of the rushing titan's knees, dropping it back to the floor. "I'll take care of it!" Connie declared.

Mikasa looked down and felt adrenaline pump through her veins as she watched Eren's eyes slowly roll back from lack of air, the titan's grip squeezing the life from him. Fear gave her body strength as she reversed her momentum, pushing the titan off Eren and pinned it to the floor. Holding one of its distended arms with her knee, Mikasa begun punching the monstrosity in it's dumbfounded, bloody face. It's other hand was still wrapped around Eren's neck but the change in position gave the man enough space to inhale a breath and rejoin the fight.

 _Just die!_

His bloodshot, turquoise eyes snapped open and widened in a berserk rage. He twisted in it's grip to grab hold of the elbow, braced his hands, and inverted the joint. It's elbow broke with a wet snap. The titan roared in pain and fury as Eren wiggled out the now loose grip and helped Mikasa pin it to the floor.

Mikasa halted in her assault, grabbed the bottom of the titan's chin and forced it to tilt its head, "Shoot the nape!" She shouted, glancing furtively at Eren. Upon hearing his lieutenant's call, Eren pulled the revolver from his shoulder holster, shoved the muzzle to the titan's clavicle and pulled the trigger.

With a meaty _pop!_ The titan's neck exploded like an offal filled water balloon; Mikasa flinched back as she felt the hot blood splash over her mask. She dropped the limp carcass and hastily went to check on Eren.

"Fuck, can you stand?" She swore, grabbing his forearm and pulling him to his feet, "Are you hurt? Can you move?"

"I'm fine for fuck's sake!" Eren snapped, his hand massaging his bruised throat. He let out a strained bark of laughter, "Looks like he wasn't lying after all."

"Mike, Echo!" Connie ran up to the duo, briefcase slung over his back and Mossberg in hand, "You guys Ok?"

"I'm fine, so is she." Eren said, his voice hoarse and gravelly, "Let's go. We're done here."

* * *

 _ **Wednesday 02:00, January 24th… Police Station, The Bronx**_

* * *

"Sir, can you hear me?"

Armin looked up, squinting his eyes as the bright lights from the station lobby. He struggled to make out the person in front of him. A loud ringing sound filled his ears and his stomach flipped upside down as nausea gripped his entire thin body, causing him to shake.

A hand fell on his shoulder and the same voice started talking again, "My name is Officer Freudenberg. You can call me Marlo. Do you need medical attention, sir?"

He shut his eyes and limply hung his head, and hugging his arms to himself, he mutely shook his head.

"Have you taken any drugs?"

Another head shake.

"Sir, can you give me your name?"

Armin tried to speak but the words stuck in his throat. He tried again, feeling out the syllables before a low rasp escaped his lips. His lungs ached and the back of his mouth overflowed with sickness and bitter fluid. He felt like utter shit and his brain refused to kick into gear.

 _It hurts when I talk._

"Sir, do have any ID?"

He looked up when the police officer asked that. Did he? He must have _some_ kind of ID, right? Armin slowly stuck his hands into his jacket pockets, before pulling out a small, leather wallet and dumbly handing it to the cop.

"Armin Arlert, twenty five years of age." Marlo read off the driver's license into his radio, then said, "Mr. Arlert, I found you outside a condemned tenement building, soaked and huddled in front of the door. Can you explain why you were outside in the rain at this time of night, sir?"

The blond stared back at the cop, tried and failed to wet his lips before croaking out, "I live there."

"According to your license you live in Staten Island."

 _Not for a long time now, my friend._

He shook his head again, "Old house… Grandfather owned it."

The officer's radio beeped and Marlo quickly answered it, "Mr. Arlert, according to the database you were released from Oceanview correctional facility three weeks ago, is that correct?"

Armin acknowledged him blankly.

Officer Freudenberg nodded and handed back Armin's wallet. "Can you stay with your grandfather, Mr. Arlert?"

"No…" Armin murmured, sniffling a little as his nose dripped. "He died when I was eight."

"Oh." Marlo shifted uncomfortably, "Do you have any family or friends you could stay with?"

 _Wish I did, but I haven't talked to them in years._

"No." Armin tried to stand up but the blood rushed to his head as soon he leaned forward, forcing the cop to catch him before he swooned. "I'm fine, officer. Can I go?"

"Sir, you look like you need medical attention, and I really don't want you to sleep outside during a storm." Marlo declared, his face soft with genuine concern, "Now if you don't want to go to the hospital, I can let you sleep in our holding cell for the night."

Armin shivered at the thought spending another night outside in the cold and wet. But at the same time he was dubious at sleeping in a cell. He had spent enough time locked in a cage.

With the help of the cop, Armin shakily stood and made his way to the exit door. "Thank you, but I can stay at a hotel. Can I leave, officer?"

Marlo sighed and reluctantly let go of Armin's arm, giving him one more uneasy look before returning to his duties.

Armin shuffled out onto the street, pulling his dirty jacket tighter around his scrawny frame and shivering under the deluge of the storm. He hated being cold, as a kid he always froze and caught colds during New York's short but harsh winters, and now he couldn't help but think back to the days when he spent almost every Christmas and New year sick in his bed, waiting for his foster-siblings Eren and Mikasa to wake up and spend their holidays sitting on the edge of Armin's bed, listening intently to his grandfather read stories to the three of them.

The rain worsened as he wandered aimlessly away, tugging the hood of his jacket over his blond hair and shoved his shaking hands into his pockets, the cold sapping what little hope he had. He fought back tears as his emotions cruelly began to cannibalize themselves like a litter of starving rats.

 _Maybe I should go back, it was warm inside that sta-_

"Hey, look out!"

Armin heard the shout a second before metal screeching filled his ears and a bright light blinded him, making him reflexively recoil.

Then pain flared throughout his body as he was roughly flung to asphalt, his head bouncing violently off the slick road. He curled into himself; forming a small, convulsing ball of bruised and battered flesh.

 _Oh god I think I can feel my ribs moving!_

The thought came unbidden to his mind. He opened one bloodshot cerulean eye and tried desperately to seek out another person for help.

"Oh, fuck everything!" A gruff male voice, sporting a heavy new yorker accent, sounded from a nearby car. "I think we killed that bum!"

"Go and check, Connie!" A second voice, a feminine one, answered back. "Maybe he is still alive!"

Armin coughed loudly in an attempt to clear his lungs. He couldn't see the occupants from his position, the car's headlights painfully blinding him. He hoped they wouldn't leave him.

A third voice spoke up; emotionless and clear like a machine, "Connie, deal with it. We can't take chances right now."

"What the fuck, Lieutenant! We can't just kill him!"

"He's homeless. Odds are nobody is going to come searching for him. Dump him in the trunk, I'll deal with the semantics later." The pitiless voice washed over Armin; freezing him in place out of terror.

 _Who are these people?! I gotta say something, convince them somehow!_

A door slammed and Armin could hear two steps of footsteps approach him, then he felt hands grab hold of his jacket and pull his pain-ridden body into sitting position. He could see one of them, a short but muscular man with a shaved head and a virgin Mary tattooed on the side of his neck.

The man tried to pull Armin to his feet but stopped when the small blond let out a loud whimper as he felt one of his ribs glide under his skin like a comb through hair.

"P...please." Armin whispered, weakly grabbing hold of the man's arm, "Just drop me at a hospital…"

A look of deep uncertainty and shame appeared on the man's face, "Sorry, pal. Orders are orders. You get it, right?"

He nodded to the person standing behind Armin and suddenly the only thing Armin could see was darkness as they pulled a cloth bag over his head and tied his wrists together with wire.

"Please!" Armin tried to struggle but the two people roughly hoisted him off the ground and carried him. The next thing he knew, his side exploded in pain as they dumped him inside the trunk and slammed it shut.

"You can't do thi...ack! " His yelling was broken off by another fit of agonizing coughing, "I didn't do anything to you! Please!"

* * *

Mikasa watched Connie and Sasha sit back in the car. The two of them looked at each other sadly before Connie turned the ignition and put the car into drive.

An oppressive silence filled the car as the four of them drove back to the 104th safehouse. Sasha worried her lip and stared at the dashboard in a quiet distress. Eren lay sleeping in the back of the car, slowly coming down from the meth induced rush. Sitting next to him, Mikasa gently checked Eren's neck for serious damage; the duffel bag of ammunition lay at her feet alongside the small briefcase for their client. As Sasha watched Mikasa show her more maternal side she tried to work up enough courage to voice her opinion to the terrifying lieutenant.

"Uh...Mikasa?" She asked, her accent getting more and more pronounced as her nervousness increased.

"Yes, Sasha?"

She licked her lips, shot a glance at Connie- who flashed her a thumbs up for encouragement, and said, "Would it not be easier to leave that man at the emergency room?"

"No. He's a loose end. And we just committed a mass murder, which would net us life at the least. Last thing we need is an injured witness with a grudge against us."

"He did not see any guns! Or blood! All we need is to bribe him and leave him at an emergency room!" Sasha declared, looking back at Mikasa pleadingly.

"I said no." She turned her grey-blue eyes and glared at Sasha, "He saw Connie's face. Do you want to trust his life to a homeless man he hit with a car?"

Sasha glanced at her best friend and then dejectedly shook her head.

Mikasa leaned forward and whispered softly into Sasha's ear, "I know it kills you to hurt those that don't deserve it; I don't take any pleasure in it either. But your family comes first. No. Matter. What. Understood?"

Sasha nodded, "Da, Mikasa. I understand."

"I promise he won't feel a thing." Mikasa said, giving Sasha a sad but sincere smile, "Now, we're almost home. You two go sanitize and get something to eat."

Sasha cheered instantly at the mention of food and as Connie parked the car inside the fenced backstreet serving the 'Wings of Freedom' bar and tavern, she jumped out of the car and ran to the back door of the bar. Connie followed behind, slinging Eren's passed out body over his shoulder and carrying him to the 104th safe house. The bar was closed tonight, which would give plenty of time for the exhausted gangsters to get rid of trace evidence and chow down on the dinner that Krista prepared for them.

 _The food will take their minds of this. I can have Ymir or one the grunts help me dispose of the body, no need to involve those two with this anymore._

Mikasa got out last and walked to the trunk, opened it and curiously gazed at her prisoner. He was short, only coming up to her collarbone, and looked malnourished at best. He lay still among the debris of the trunk, either passed out from the pain or too scared to react to her presence.

 _At least there won't be much to get rid of, I guess._

"Get up." She ordered. The man twitched feebly and tried to push himself upright before collapsing.

"I can't." He whispered, voice muffled from the sack covering his head. "My ribs… Please."

Instead of answering, Mikasa simply grabbed the man by his jacket and dragged him out off the trunk. She hesitated slightly when he cried out in pain but forced him to stand and began dragging him toward the garage door. There was plenty of plastic sheeting in there.

"I didn't see anything, I was never here! Please… just let me go!" He whimpered, flinching away from her as she grabbed his neck and guided his steps.

"Stop talking." She pushed the garage door open and shoved the man forward. "Don't move."

The man twitched and then said, "I'm good with numbers, I could help you! I'll be your bookie!"

Mikasa started laying out plastic sheeting on the floor. "Not interested."

The man shook harder, seemingly on the edge of breaking down into sobs, Mikasa could see wet spots where tears soaked through the cloth sack.

"I was valedictorian at my college, straight A student through high school; give me some time and I can learn a skill that _will_ be useful to you!" He declared, "Please, I'll do whatever it takes! I don't have anywhere to go anyway so there's no conflict of interest if I work for you!"

Mikasa huffed in annoyance before striding over to him, "Do you want the hood on or off?"

The man stilled, confused. "Wha...What do you mean by that?"

Mikasa unsheathed her knife and pushed him unto his knees over the sheeting. "Do you want to me to take the bag off your head before I kill you. That's what I mean."

She listened idly as he started to hyperventilate, small hiccups sputtered from under the cloth as he tried to answer.

 _Just answer so we can get this over with, this isn't fun for me either._

"I..uh, _hic,_ I…" He struggled and managed to finally squeak out, "No... H-h-hood."

She shrugged, stepped in front of him, and froze in absolute shock after she tugged the bag off of his head.

 _What the..._

She definitely was _not_ expecting to see her childhood friend's mop of golden hair and soft features underneath. Armin's eyes were tightly shut but she could still see the trials of moisture left behind from her friend's river of tears. Guilt smashed through her; her heart tighten in shame and horror when she realized that she was about to murder her foster-brother.

"Armin?!" She gasped, dropping the knife and kneeling down to his level, her hands grabbing his thin shoulders in a subconscious attempt to still his trembling.

Terrified cerulean eyes meet her concerned grey orbs, and they both expanded with surprise.

"Mi-mikasa?" He whispered, his sluggish and fear-addled brain struggling to cope a roaring torrent of emotions that now threatens to erupt from the pit of his stomach.

They stared at each other for a few more moments before Mikasa pulled the smaller blond into an agonizing hug, not realizing that she was concentrating pressure on his broken ribs.

"Mikasa!" He whimpered as black spots danced across his vision, distracting him momentarily before relaxing in Mikasa's embrace.

"Good... to see you again." He whispered, then fainted dead away.

* * *

 **Chapter one Revised on: 10/17/2017**

 **SAIC*- Special Agent In Charge**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Attack on Titan or it's characters. Nor do I own anything in New York City.**

 **Hello there, and welcome to the first Attack on Titan fanfic I've ever written. Hopefully I managed to portray the characters more or less correctly here and entertain you guys for a little bit. Honestly this fic has been re-written about four to five times already, but I feel that I hit all the chapter 1 goals I set for myself. I honestly am a huge fan of Attack on Titan and particularly Armin and Annie are probably my favorite characters of all time, including movie and video game characters. The next chapter to this fic will be at least 2 to 3 months away at the time of this writing as I will be extremely busy with life stuff like moving. Thank you again for reading, and please leave a comment, critique, or question. I want to learn how to improve my writing style and the best way I found was from advice of other writers.**


	2. Risky Business has Consequences

_**Wednesday 01:00, January 24th… 5th Floor, New York City FBI Office**_

* * *

Annie stood in front of her new SAIC's office door, her fist hovering over the wooden door in hesitation. Her briefcase strap clenched tightly in her off-hand and a scowl resting on her face, Annie mentally prepared herself for the upcoming encounter with her new boss.

On the way up to the office, Bertholdt had warned her about their strange and often narcissistic boss.

* * *

" _The best way to deal with him is to just smile and nod." He informed her, as they passed by empty offices and break rooms, "Most of the time he's a bit sharp with his words but every once in while he'll blow up into a massive shitstorm and start chewing us out. He can be a bit of a selfish hothead."_

* * *

Annie was used to working under selfish hotheads. Honestly that described all of the gangsters and mob capos she was assigned to in her two years of undercover work. At least she could be reasonably sure that Agent Dok wouldn't shoot her in the back of the head. Not publicly or without a suppressed weapon anyway.

"Might as well get this over with." She whispered to herself, knocking rhythmically at Special Agent Dok's door.

"Who's there?" A scratchy male voice, muffled by the wood and frosted glass, sounded from inside.

"Special Agent Leonhardt, Sir." She answered, forcing a tone of respect into her words with ease of long practice.

The door creaked open slightly, revealing a single dark eye glaring at her suspiciously over a small chain lock. "You got your ID?"

Annie gestured to the temporary, small plastic ID card clipped to her sweater. "My badge is in my briefcase."

The door shut and she heard the telltale sounds of a lock being undone. The door was pulled open and a tall, thin man with a long angular face and short messy, black hair stood in the doorway.

"Quit wasting my time and get in here then." He ordered, turning away and walking back to his desk, "Shut the door after yourself."

The small blonde did as she was told and then handed Agent Dok a thick, brown folder filled with her service papers. He pulled the necessary papers out and laid them out across his cluttered and stained desk, grudgingly having to move old unwashed coffee mugs and push stacks of dog-eared forms out of the way. He fished out a small damaged pen and begun writing with a callous disregard for margins or lines.

Annie took the opportunity to examine her surroundings while he was distracted. Her nose crinkled as the scent of cheap unfiltered cigarettes assaulted her. The scent had taken residence in the furniture, carpet, and even the walls of the dingy office. Each surface she looked at she could see burn marks where he had stubbed cigarettes out. Papers were thrown everywhere, apparently without any attempt of organization or care, completely covering the small couch pushed against the wall; the wall itself was entirely covered by a giant cork board which was the only untouched thing in the tiny cramped room.

 _Wow, this office is right out of a 90's cop show. I'll bet he's got some bourbon in that desk._

Agent Dok's dark eyes briefly glanced at her, "Sit down." He grunted before retrieving a smoke from his desk and lighting it.

Annie placed her briefcase against his desk and carefully sat down on the cheap metal chair in front of his desk, fidgeting momentarily before leaning back and resting one knee over the other as she folded her arms over her chest.

Having concluded her survey of the room she directed her searching stare at Dok. The man seemed to be in his late thirties and sported a pencil thin mustache and soul patch. His FBI regulation attire was accentuated with a dark crimson bolo tie and a dark gray tailored suit vest replaced the standard black jacket. She decided that he would have been attractive if not for the cloud of tobacco smoke hanging around his head like a cancer-inducing halo. Or his status as a pariah among the FBI. Or his apparent belief in urban legends.

 _I wonder if he believes in ghosts too._ _Or Bigfoot._

She idly promised herself that this would _not_ end up in a Scully and Mulder situation. There was enough evil in the world without adding the supernatural into the mix.

At that moment Agent Dok finished signing her papers and tossed his pen onto his desk with finality. Annie straightened up in her seat when he looked at her, attempting to at least _seem_ eager for new assignment.

He blew out a lungful of smoke and sneered, "I didn't know the FBI had instituted casual Wednesdays."

She looked down, eyeing her navy blue turtleneck sweater, jeans, and gray boots.

"The airline lost my luggage." She confessed, once again folding her arms and glaring at him.

He simply shrugged and showed off a paper, holding it in between his fingers as it was personally offensive to him. "According to this travel voucher, you should have arrived in New York at around…" He glanced at the voucher, "1630. Giving about three hours to either rent a suit or get your luggage back."

"I missed that flight." She hissed at him, hoping that his cigarette would fall down his shirt and burn him.

Dok let out a throaty chuckle and tossed the voucher over his shoulder, "No wonder you got assigned to this case. Your attitude needs some work."

 _I'm going to ram that bolo tie down your fucking throat._

She discreetly pinched herself. She had to keep her anger in check.

"But hey, there's more to an agent than attitude." He said as he pulled out two more files, one labeled P.O.I. and the other C.I., from his desk drawer and placed them neatly in front of her. "And fortunately for me, there's plenty more to you than glares and sullen silences."

Annie reached out and opened the person of interest file. Inside was a mugshot of a young man with unkempt brown hair and vibrant green eyes. Even through the picture, Annie could tell that this man possessed a primal energy in life that would be a force to be reckoned with. He glared at the camera, his face frozen in a look indignant anger. Behind the picture was copy of his DD-214 form plus a copy of his criminal record. She started to quickly skim over the information.

"Eren Jaeger…" Agent Dok explained, grinding his cigarette out on his desk, "Formerly Private First Class Jaeger. Born in Manhattan, enlisted in the Marine Corps at age 18, and served honorably for five years until he crippled an Iraqi police officer in a street brawl. He was court-marshaled, given a BCD*, and thrown out of the Corps. He spent the next two years making a name for himself here in New York."

Annie continued to flip through the wealth of papers in the file, letting Dok give her a verbal summary.

"We believe that he took control of the 104th street gang, a small but feared inner city gang from the Bronx. They've been keeping under the radar for years; staying away from the drug trade and never expanding past their own territories."

"So why am I holding his file right now?" Annie asked.

"A about a year ago the 104th exploded outward, tripling their turf in three months. At least four rival gangs were attacked and crushed by them. I think Eren here was the driving factor in their sudden conquest boner." He adjusted his bolo tie and went on, "According to our CI's- Well the one that got away, anyway.- he and his crew have been making moves all around New York City and the surrounding boroughs."

"That still doesn't answer my question." She said, curiosity softening her sharp tone, "All the information in here points to him being just an unusually effective criminal. But, if that was true wouldn't a free agent be assigned the case? Or even the NYPD? Doesn't look like he crossed any state lines."

"Skipping right to the point, huh?" He chuckled again, a raspy and somewhat hollow sound that originated from the back of his throat, "Have you heard of the 'Titans'?"

"I know of them, they're a west coast gang that has been expanding in territory and membership for the past decade. Lots of rumors surrounding them." Annie replied, recalling the gossip at her old office, "The brass has been keeping most information about them under lock and key but I heard the Bureau is going to categorize them as a terrorist organization in a few weeks."

"Really? About time." Agent Dok offhandedly declared, then continued, "The 104th is currently at war with the Titans, and we found some intel that suggests that they're looking for some allies in that war. The 104th is gonna need muscle, guns, and a lot of money to fund their campaign."

"You think Eren contacted _the Legion_?" She asked, the question sliding from her lips dripping sarcasm.

"I don't know." He said, offhandedly lighting another cigarette, "But it's your job to find out if he does."

"Excuse me?!" She gasped, shocked.

 _Did I hear him correctly? He can't be planning to send me in there, can he?_

"Your next assignment is to infiltrate the 104th and uncover the identity and affiliation of the 104th's benefactor." Nile Dok gave her a smug, fake smile, "Agent Hoover has already crafted a criminal record and some financial history for you. They'll stand up to a examination, don't you worry."

"Hold on." She leaned forward, lowering her voice into threatening growl, "I will not. I repeat. I will _not_ risk my life spying on a bunch of trigger-happy gangbangers about to start a _fucking war_ with a network of domestic terrorists just because you think that they might contact a criminal organization that doesn't _exist_."

"Look at it this way, Ms. Leonha-"

" _Agent."_ She interrupted him icily.

For the first time Agent Dok looked a little more startled than annoyed. "What was that?"

She gestured to the ID badge clipped to her sweater, "Either refer to me as an agent or by my last name. It's only polite... Sir."

Nile Dok stared back into her eyes and blew out a long breath of smoke, before leaning back into his chair and resting his feet onto his ratty desk. "Fair enough... but drop the sir shit, makes me sound old."

 _Your voice makes you sound old._

Ok, that may have been more than a little childish.

"But I apologize. I realize that the idea of being tossed into an inner city war-zone on a hunch from an FBI fuck-up you just met sounds like bullshit." He said, "And if I were in your position, I'd say the same thing. But if you'd give me a moment, I think I'll be able to sweeten the pot."

"I don't have much choice, do I?"

"Nope. Let's look at the facts for a moment." He said, holding up his hand and raising a finger for every time he recounted a fact, "Fact: The 104th is currently at war with the Titans, an organization that dwarfs the 104th a hundred to one in all logistical aspects. Fact: The 104th will require a patron for support in order to win this war. Fact: That source would have to show itself in the ensuring war, either directly by sending soldiers or indirectly by sending guns. Do you see where I'm going with this?"

Annie nodded stiffly, "You want an inside agent to document the delivery of illegal weapons to the 104th and hopefully find a connection to the organization that sent the weapons to them thus giving you enough evidence to put both parties away for at least a dime**."

"Correct, Agent. You're quick on the uptake." Dok nodded, "So think about it this way, Agent Leonhardt. Instead of throwing you into a hot zone looking for a connection to the Legion; I'm throwing you into a hot zone looking for a connection to an unknown criminal organization. It'll be just another job."

 _You make it sound so easy._

"So if I uncover said connection, even if it's not the Legion." Annie continued, body language shifting into curious neutrality, "The Bureau would be forced to divert resources to your investigation, which means more funding and more agents. It would revitalize the case."

"Exactly." Dok smiled at her, a sad but genuine smile that made Annie suddenly notice the deep worry lines around his face. It became obvious to her that he was on his last legs, a long career of hunting ghosts weighing heavily on his mind.

"Ok. Assuming I agree to accept this assignment and the cover Agent Hoover created holds up." Annie said, once again turning her gaze to Eren's picture, mesmerizing the contours and planes of his face with studious attention to detail, "How would you get the brass to approve the operation?"

Nile Dok let out a bitter chuckle, "Oh, there's no fucking way they would ever sign off on a undercover operation from this office."

"Then how-?"

"Simple, you quit the FBI and work for me as a confidential informant." Nile declared with no hint of mirth before leaning back to wait for her reaction.

She made sure not to give him one. Her face remained cold and still, reminding Nile of stories about spirits birthed from ice and strife. Annie took a moment to formulate a response and then, with barely audible tremor of frigid rage, she said. "You have one minute to try and convince me. Then I'm walking out of this office and reporting you for abuse of authority and misappropriation of government funds. Go."

Nile's face blanched at her threat, he knew the brass were looking for reasons to drop him onto unpaid leave. He swallowed, pulled his mouth into his most charismatic smile, and leaned forward to open the second folder for her. "As I said before the 104th has no choice but reach out to a larger organization and if we catch them in the act we would have evidence of the existence of the Legion or evidence tying the 104th to an illegal arms deal. Either way the FBI would have to take interest into something like that. My plan to send you into the 104th as a CI instead of an undercover agent is because of two reasons. One, there is no way I will be able to convince my boss to authorize an undercover operation. And two, it would be exponentially safer for you."

"Explain." She didn't like his attitude, or his plan but so far he making sense to her.

T _his could be an opportunity to turn this assignment to my advantage._ _It's not like anyone else wants me working with them._

He nodded, "As a CI the only other agents that would know your true identity is me, Agent Hoover, and Agent Braun. Your life as Special Agent Annie Leonhardt would come to an end. Agent Hoover and I will access the FBI database and expunge all records of you from it, no one in the bureau will notice the change due to you being assigned to this case-"

Annie cut in, "Because this case is used as a dumping ground for unwanted agents."

Agent Dok flinched and took another drag of his cigarette, "Correct. Out of sight and out of mind as they say. Anyway, not only would this protect you from being exposed by outside hackers but it will also keep any corrupt agents from using the database to sniff you out. You also would not be bound by any rules or regulations which will make blending in with criminals a lot easier."

"Smart and underhanded. Your time is almost up, Special Agent." She stated, casting a glance at office's clock with carefully acted boredom.

"Right, right, right. Uh, another advantage to this plan is that we didn't have to create a false identity for you. According to your new papers you are Annie Leonhardt, twenty-six years old, and recently released from the Federal Correctional Institution in Hazelton, West Virginia. You served a three year stint for a drug based offence. Now literally everything but the prison time is accurate to your personal history so you won't have to worry about rehearsing or getting mixed up in details."

"What about my pay and future?" Annie demanded, "I'd rather be an FBI agent than a felon any day."

Dok smiled at her again, she wished he would stop, "You would receive no official pay from the FBI, instead you will receive cash from your handlers that will come from clandestine source and of course, you will be allowed to keep any earnings from your more...illicit dealings. As for your future there are two options that I see happening, all being well. If you discover evidence of the Legion then you will be reclassified as SOI* and we continue to employ you under the greatest secrecy until we bring them down, which will probably end up with promotions and raises for all of us."

"And if the Legion doesn't exist?" She asks.

"Then you will stay a CI until we have enough evidence to prosecute the 104th and their patron. After that you will be assigned to a WitSec program and you will live a happy, healthy life under a new name in some distant state. Of course, if you would like to rejoin the FBI in a few years, I'm sure Agent Hoover has enough technological know-how to make that happen."

Nile stubbed out his smoke, "So, what do you say?"

 _I don't have much choice in the matter._

"As much as I think this will end badly." Annie said, "It's better than spending the rest of my career spying on conspiracy theorists and eating pizza in the back of a van."

She breathed in deeply, collected her briefcase, and stood from her chair. "I'll take the assignment, Sir."

Nile nodded, sagging into his chair in relief, "Take the CI folder with you, fill out the papers, and get yourself a nice hotel to stay in. I'll be in touch in a few days when everything is ready."

Annie nodded, then turned and walked to the door. Her shoulders weighed down by a deep feeling of uncertainty and doubt, as she wondered if she had made the right decision.

"Oh, wait."

Annie looked at Dawk over her shoulder. "Yes?"

"I'm going to need your weapon and badge." He stood up and held his hand out expectantly, "You understand, right Agent?"

She hung her head, pale blue eyes shut tightly. "Understood, Sir."

* * *

 _ **Wednesday 03:40, January 24th… Wings of Freedom Bar & Tavern, The Bronx**_

* * *

Connie popped the top off another beer and downed half it in one huge gulp before choking on the bitter liquid and breaking off into a coughing fit.

"Connie, you are not a fish!" Sasha guffawed, her own beer stood empty at the scratched but still solid bar, "You cannot breathe in beer!"

"I challenge you to name a fish that can breathe in beer, Sasha." Connie gasped out, eyes watering from the fit.

"No, but if I discover one I-" She held up one hand over heart and threw her free arm around his shoulders, almost pulling him off his barstool. "Will name it after you, Connie!"

"And then eat it, no doubt." A harsh voice snickered from behind the bar, revealing a grinning Ymir holding a bottle of whiskey in her hand, "Though knowing Connie's hygiene habits, you'd probably get food poisoning."

"Hey, I shower everyday!" Connie declared, "I just sweat a lot, it's the Italian in me."

"Offly defensive there Connie." Ymir said, twisting open the bottle and pouring the amber liquid into three deep glasses. Ymir always seemed strange to Connie; she never said exactly what she was thinking, always wrapping her words in a prickly blanket of sarcasm.

 _But she's dependable and Krista adores her so she's alright in my book._

"Is Krista finished cooking dinner, Ymir?" Sasha asked hopefully.

Ymir pushed a glass into her hand and chuckled, "She'll be out in a minute, along with all the food your fat-ass can ever want!"

"And how many farms did you rob to get that food?" Connie mockingly asked, eyes wide with obviously faked astonishment, "The Tri-state area's in for a rough winter now… all those poor starving people."

Sasha recoiled from him, almost spilling her cup, and gaped at her friend with offended eyes. "Connie!"

Connie grinned at his pouting friend, sometimes he forgot how sensitive the woman was to teasing. He reached out and lightly punched her in the shoulder, "Sorry, Sasha."

"Aww, I hate it when daddy hits mommy." Ymir snickered, refusing to relent in her sarcasm.

Sasha stuck up her middle finger and gulped down her whiskey, sighing in relief as the booze burned down her throat. " _Blyad!_ I needed that…"

"It's like cool spring rain, eh?" Connie said, then likewise sucked down his glass of whiskey. "Ahhh. Fucking refreshing as 'ell, right Ym-"

A loud bang made him jump in surprise.

Three sets of startled eyes shot towards the bar's staff door, just barely catching a glimpse of Mikasa striding up to the bar and grabbed Sasha by her arm.

"Ahh!" Sasha yelped, "What the hell?!"

"Quiet!" Mikasa snapped at her, causing Ymir and Connie to flinch nervously from Mikasa's raised voice, "Listen closely, I need you to go find Marco and bring him here. Tell him to bring medical supplies, specifically things for trauma to the ribcage. Understand?!"

Connie felt the hair on his neck stand on end, Mikasa almost never lost her cool and usually only when Eren's safety was involved.

 _Somethings gone really, really wrong._

"Yeah! I understand!" Sasha cried out as she disentangled herself from Mikasa's grip and jumped off her bar stool, running towards the door of the tavern.

"Ymir, I need something to drive!" She called out.

With shocking speed, Ymir reached into her back pocket, retrieved a keyring, and tossed them into Sasha's waiting hands. "Use my bike, it's faster than a car!"

Connie stood from the bar, "Mikasa, what's going on?!"

"Is Eren awake yet?" Mikasa demanded, moving past Connie and motioning for him to follow her.

"Nope, he's still sleeping off the ice." Connie reported, "I put him in the shower for safe keeping."

Mikasa shook her head then strode back through the hallway door, walking towards the garage door at the end. On both sides of the hall, pictures of the 104th members hung proudly from the oaken walls. Precious memories stared at them as Connie followed behind his lieutenant, who's stiff shoulders and gloomy facial expression only amplified his anxiety.

 _Fuck, Mikasa quit keeping me in the dark on this. How can I help if I ain't got a clue about what to do?_

He opened his mouth to ask her, but Mikasa suddenly stopped in her tracks, spun around on her heel, and grabbed Connie by the shoulders.

"Woah!" Connie gasped as he tried, and failed, to take reactionary step away.

"Connie, I need you to promise me something." Mikasa suddenly demanded and Connie noticed that her face slipped back into it's usual unreadable expression; he thought it was a little creepy how she could do that. "Don't tell Eren that you hit Armin with the car."

"Who's Armin?" Connie asked, baffled.

"The homeless man that I ordered you to shove in the trunk." She blankly replied.

"Wait, you know him?" Connie felt a resurgence of his earlier feeling of guilt at the memory of shoving that injured man into his trunk, "How?!"

Mikasa seemed to smile slightly, "He's family. We grew up together. Eren loves him like a brother." She said, then turned abruptly and continued down the hall.

Connie stood stock still in her wake, processing the new information.

"Oh... fuck me." He whispered, horror overtaking his body, "I ran over Eren's best friend…He's gonna fucking end me."

* * *

 _ **Wednesday 03:52, January 24th… Wings of Freedom Bar & Tavern, The Bronx**_

* * *

"Ymir? Where is everyone?" Krista asked, holding a large steaming pot in her hands. "I thought I heard a motorcycle start up."

Ymir looked over from her seat by at one of the tavern's small wooden tables, a glass of whiskey in hand and an unlit cigarette tucked behind her ear. She waved her arm lazily to Krista, who looked confused about where the rest of the people had gone.

Krista owned, tended, and cooked for the _Wings of Freedom_ , and even if the tavern was better classified as a large dive bar with a slight country feel to it, Krista had poured years of hard work into the establishment and was fiercely proud of it. Ymir honestly admired her "bosses" dedication, even if she lacked much drive herself.

"Ymir, please tell me where everyone went!" Krista implored, walking to Ymir's table and carefully placing the pot on a coaster to avoid burning the oaken surface. "Dinner is ready...I made _Gulaschsuppe_."

Ymir smiled one of her few tender smiles at Krista, then reached out and poked at a stain on Krista's 'I'm not short, I'm travel size!' cooking apron. "Some goulash soup? Sounds like the german in you is surfacing again."

"Yyymiiir!" Krista whined, "Don't change the subject!"

Ymir chuckled as she sipped from her glass, "Mikasa's in the garage with Connie, Sasha was sent to fetch Marco, and Eren is passed out in the shower."

Krista gasped, her deep sapphire eyes watering in worry, "What happened?! I thought everyone got home ok?"

Ymir quickly answered, berating herself for concerning Krista. "Relax everyone is Ok, as far as I know. No one got hurt during the job. But Mikasa seemed really upset when she came in here just now."

 _Maybe she finally figured out that emotions exist._

"I'm going to go see if she needs any help. Can you do me a favor and put the soup back on the stove so it doesn't get cold?"

"Fine, but only because you asked so sweetly." Ymir drawled, before standing and hoisting the pot into her hands. She was about to head to the tavern's kitchen but Krista stopped her briefly and stood on her toes to kiss Ymir on her cheek.

"Thank you, Ymir!" Krista answered, before jogging away to find Mikasa.

Ymir watched the petite blonde leave, one corner of her lip upturned and her face felt warmer than usual. That woman was too good to her, _is_ too good for her. She truly was an angel.

Brrrrrrrrrrrt. Brrrrrrrrrrrrt.

Her phone began vibrating, only slightly muffled by the washed-out denim of her jeans. She groaned in annoyance, placing the pot back down and checked her bright green smartphone.

"Private number?" She mumbled, and hit the answer prompt, "Who the fuck is this and why are calling in the middle of the night?"

"Hello, Ymir." A quiet, clipped, and menacing voice answered. Ymir stiffened. "My apologies for interrupting your night."

Ymir glanced around the room nervously, "What do you want? How did you find me?!"

"You did not even bother to change your name, Ymir." The voice answered, chuckling lightly, "And I just wanted to make sure you were being good."

 _What a creepy motherfucker._

"What's that supposed to mean?" She hissed into the phone.

"A few of my men were killed today. Shot dead inside a warehouse. Good men, they followed orders well. You wouldn't know anything about that would you?"

"Not a fucking clue. And that's the truth, so you can leave me alone." Ymir answered, a grimace etched into her face, "In case you forgot, we had a deal!"

"A deal that would become void if you ever became a threat to me again…" The voice reminded her, "How are things with the 104th, Ymir?"

"No one's eating _people_ anymore, so I guess you can say it's a step up." She hissed into the phone. "I don't know what happened to your dudes, but the 104th didn't have anything to do with it, so FUCK OFF!"

She hung up and bit down hard on her hand to distract herself, splitting the skin and forcing the taste of coppery blood to splash unto her tongue. Agitated, her eyes darted to the doors and windows searching for any eavesdroppers.

"Fucking goddamn shitdumpster..." She whispered to herself, frustration setting into her mind, "We had a deal."

Ymir snorted and with a vicious grunt, kicked a chair unto it's side. Oh why did Eren have to go and start shit with the Titans? He should have started small and taken on the US government.

* * *

 _ **Wednesday 03:23, January 24th… 12th Floor, Brown Brothers Money Management Office**_

* * *

"Engaging."

A flat coughing sound permeated through the air, followed by the sharp clangs of spent brass hitting the wooden floors. A short second later, a loud thump echoed from down the dark hall as the body collapsed, a neat hole oozing where the bullet had torn through the back of his neck and burst from in between his eyes.

The dead man collapsed to the floor with a hard thump, his blood pooling with coffee he had just been enjoying.

Levi lowered his AS Val rifle, bringing his offhand to his headset, "Contact neutralized. Blue team is clear to breach."

A whispered soft voice sounded from the headset, "Roger captain."

Gunther moved past him to the boardroom door, S12 semi-automatic shotgun gripped firmly in ready position. Behind him walked Eld, an MP5SD hanging from it's one-point sling and an oddly-shaped grenade in his hands. The pair took cover on both sides of the doorway, before nodding to each other and swiftly taking action. Gunther delivered a heavy kick to the door's lock, forcing it open and leaving it swinging on one hinge just as Eld threw the grenade into the room.

A shout of alarm was heard but was overshadowed by a muffled _bang_ from the hand-held explosive. Cries of pain and shock reached Levi's ears as the 'fizzler' did it's job. Hundreds of tiny platinum spines coated in sulfuric acid embedded themselves into the bodies of their enemies, tearing and burning through clothing, flesh, and bone; foul-smelling smoke wafting from their rapidly expanding wounds. Gunther and Eld moved in, calmly silencing anyone still alive inside the room with quick shots to the head.

"Room one clear, no contact with titans yet." Eld reported.

Levi acknowledged him with a clipped "Roger", before walking to the open window that they had entered the building from, "Blue team, sweep and secure this floor. I'm going to rejoin red team."

He brazenly stuck his head out the window, coming face to face with the only other person shorter than him in the squad. Petra was causally hanging by the side of the building, a thin wire attached to a winch on her hip was the only thing keeping her from plummeting to her death on the streets below.

The squad had been dropped off by helicopter (disguised as a police chopper) to the small skyscraper's roof before rappelling down to the twelfth floor, which blue team was tasked with securing. Red team, consisting of Petra and Oluo, had been waiting for Levi to reappear so they could assault the eleventh floor.

"Your line, Captain." Petra said, holding a complex carabiner out for him.

He thanked her and clipped the line to his own winch before hopping out into the empty darkness. Levi naturally righted himself and planted his feet against the steel wall. "Red team with me." He ordered, as he disengaged the winch and pushed off the wall.

A brief sense of weightlessness enveloped him as his body adjusted to the momentary silent freefall, his mind sensing that Petra and Oluo had imitated him perfectly. His senses heightened as adrenaline seared through his system, the sounds of thunder and the feel of rain pattering on his black waterproof clothing seemed almost musical to him.

The sense of freedom lasted less than second before the three commandos re-engaged their winches, soundlessly landing above the eleventh floor windows.

"Red two, you're on overwatch. Keep the hallway clear." Levi barked.

"Roger, boss." Oluo replied before twisting in his harness so he hung upside down, boots to the wall and only the top of his head and barrel of his VSS sniper rifle visible in the window. "I got clear sight lines. No contacts."

"Red one, open the window then shadow me."

Petra grappled lower and silently pulled the window wide open. "Window clear."

Levi briefly disengaged the winch, giving him enough slack to swing through the open window. He touched down heavily, the carpet muffling the sound of his landing. He immediately unclipped the carabiner and slipped into cover behind a water-cooler.

Soft grunting heralded Petra's appearance as she also swung through the window and crouched behind Levi, softly resting her offhand on his right shoulder to covertly inform him of her position.

Together the duo advanced down the hallway, systematically breaching into rooms and searching them for enemies. Each room proved empty, much to Levi's disappointment.

Suddenly his headset beeped, and Levi quickly responded, "You should be done by now, blue one."

"Sorry Captain." Eld said, sounding a little out of breath, "We found and secured the package. Blue two is mopping up. Orders?"

"Extract to the roof and wait for Longsword to contact you." Levi ordered, "Red team and I have finished clearing this floor. Meet up with you in a few minutes."

"Understood."

Petra, also having heard everything through her own headset, simply nodded at Levi and waited for him to give an order.

"Contact, end of the hall." Oluo reported.

Petra reached out and grabbed Levi by the arm and pulled him into an empty room, just as the elevator at the end of hall pinged and opened it's doors. Levi watched them from the crack in the doorway.

Four men walked out, each dressed in dirty business shirts and slacks, clutching high caliber handguns and long knives in their hands. Their eyes bulged out their sockets like frogs, bloodshot and twitching. Each one seemed to almost vibrate with nervous, violent energy as they shoved each other out their way.

 _Disgusting._

"Shit." Levi whispered, "Titans. Looks like these haven't fully changed yet. Probably D-classes."

"Someone must have raised the alarm." Petra breathed, standing over Levi's crouched form to also get a look, "They must be backup."

Levi nodded then activated his headset, "Red two, wait until they pass our position. Then engage."

"Piece of cake, boss."

Levi backed away from the door, gently pulling Petra with him. She looked up at him, honey-colored eyes and hair hidden behind a black balaclava and goggles.

"What's the plan?" She asked him.

"We wait until red two engages the Titans, then we attack the survivors from behind using CQC." He replied, as he slung his rifle across his back, drew a suppressed M1911A1, and unsheathed his kukri. Levi examined the broad-bladed knife affectionately; all of his squad carried these, as it was difficult to destroy a titan's nape with a standard combat knife.

"Captain, maybe we shouldn't get within grabbing distance to them." Petra said, pointing to her MP5SD. "It would be smarter to engage from a distance."

"Tch. Are that unconfident about your fighting skills?" Levi asked, the dry standoffishness manifesting in his manner again. "What's the point of all those hours we spent sparring if you can't kill a few freaks?"

Petra seemed to bristle at this, "Fine, but if I die I'm haunting you!" She warned him, then secured her submachine gun and prepared her own CQC weapons.

Oluo's voice whispered through their headsets, "About to engage. Get ready boys and girls!"

Petra and Levi waited for a second, the only sound meeting their ears was the crashing of thunder outside the windows. And the loud ramblings of the incoming quasi-titans.

"D'ose boys shouldn'ta have blocked the elevator door, we suppose to 'elp them out but now we stuck walking up stairs an' shit just to get there." One complained, using his knife to scratch at an itch.

"Why we got called for anyway?!" Another rasped out.

"They's dead." The leader answered with a voice full of clicks and warbles, "Or they's gonna be soon if it's another false alarm!"

"At least we got some lunch waiting for us downstairs!" A fourth giggled obscenely, "And some good meat too!"

"SHUT UP!" The leader snarled, "Focus on the jo-"

Boom!

The sound the storm thundered through the open window just as the leader's neck burst open in a shower of hot blood. A look of shock appeared briefly on his distorted face until gravity pulled his head off, the tendons of his neck snapping under the weight of his over-sized cranium.

Oluo had timed his shot perfectly so thunderclap concealed the gunshot. Levi felt a little impressed by the older soldier's craftiness.

"Ha! Clackler's fucking neck exploded!" The giggling titan shouted, the corners of his lips pulled up unnaturally high.

"What the fuck?!" The rasping titan swore, turning a strange shade of pale white, like a pool of milk that had begun to grow mold. "What happened?"

The leader's headless body took a few more heavy steps before collapsing to the carpet, twitching and convulsing.

POP!

Oluo fired again and this time the first titan took the subsonic round for his throat, a loud gurgling greeted Levi's ears as the titan died slumped against the wall.

He nodded at Petra and together the two burst through the door and charged the astounded quasi-titans.

"THAT WAS MINE!" The giggler screamed, as Petra's kukri sliced off his gun hand.

Levi ducked low to avoid the rasping titan's panicked attack and stuck his pistol into his opponent's stomach, pulling the trigger in a rapid succession. Four rounds tore out the titan's back, stunning it long enough for Levi to deliver a forceful kick to it's knee, forcing it to the ground.

"Quick little fuck, ain't ya?" It coughed mockingly at him, "I'm gonna catch you and cook you boy!"

It lunged at him but Levi jumped and rolled out of the it's way. Regaining his stance, Levi raised his pistol again and fired. The .45 caliber hollow point hit the rasping titan in his mouth, smashing through his teeth before flowering out and shredding the back of his head.

"Tch. Can't eat what you can't kill, _boy_." He said, and speared its throat through with his kukri.

The rasping titan conversed on the ground, spitting up the shards of shattered teeth and bone, before lying still.

"That was cold, boss." Oluo remarked, "But red one has got you beat in style points."

Levi had to agree with him as he watched Petra perform a perfect high kick, the edge of her boot slamming into the towering titan's chin, crushing the jaw into jellied mass of bone muscle. Yet the titan refused to stop laughing, it's earlier giggles breaking into deep, guttural croaks.

The engagement had lasted only a few seconds and three quasi-titans lay dead on the floor and a fourth was staggering, missing a hand and leaking copious amounts of blood onto the floor.

It swung it's knife at her in last ditch attempt at victory. Levi watched as Petra grabbed and twisted the laughing titan's arm, forcing it to drop it's blade, and then shoved her kukri through it's neck.

The laughing finally stopped as she jerked the knife out of its neck and kicked the twitching body to the carpet.

Levi slid his kukri back into its sheath and drew a fresh magazine for his sidearm, "Well done, you've gotten better."

Petra flicked the knife to clean it of dark blood, and Levi felt his eye twitch as the chunky fluid spattered onto the wall behind her.

"That was fun and all but can we just shoot them next time?" Petra asked him.

"Package has been secured. Blue team is waiting for extraction." Eld informed the team, "Longsword is on his way. ETA three minutes."

"We're on our way." Levi replied, "Let's move."

Levi and Petra ran back to the window where Oluo waited for them, holding their carabiners out for them.

They silently hooked themselves up and one by one they walked off the windowsill into the rain and wind.

A slight whirl, muffled by the storm, greeted Levi's ears as he engaged his winch and shot up into the sky. The sensation of wind and rain streaming past his body, pulling at his clothes and gear, Levi let himself relax slightly.

The trip ended too quickly for his liking, as he pulled himself onto the rooftop then turned to help Oluo and Petra up as well.

"Captain, Longsword's here. Looks like he put a move on." Gunther joked from where he leaned against an industrial air conditioner.

"Where's the package?" Petra asked.

Gunther pointed to his left. A skinny looking man wearing a fur lined leather jacket lay on the soaked floor with his hands zip tied behind his back and a sock stuffed into his mouth.

"Who's sock is that?" She inquired, stifling a giggle.

"It was in a giant pile of dirty laundry, shoved into a corner of an office." Gunther said, "Looks like they were living down here for a few weeks."

"I wonder why?" Petra wondered, she turned and walked up to Levi, "Captain, did the Commander offer a reason for this raid?"

Levi shook his head, "The Commander loves his operational secrecy."

Petra's response was cut off as the sound of helicopter blades filled their ears. Levi watched as a MH-60G "Pave Hawk" helicopter circled the roof, waiting for their signal.

"Time to go home, Captain." Petra had to yell to be heard over the helicopter but Levi could still detect the happiness in her voice.

Home. Levi loved that concept.

* * *

 **Revised 10/25/2017**

 **BCD*- Bad Conduct Discharge**

 **Dime**- Slang term for a ten year prison sentence**

 **SOI*- Source of Information**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Attack on Titan or it's characters. Nor do I own anything in New York City. I also do not own anything related to the X-files.**

 **Hello again, lovely reader and thank you for taking the time to read my fanfic. I apologize for the long delay between chapters, I unfortunately was unable to write for an extended period due to lacking internet and I am currently scrambling to find a new line of work after a 10 minute doctor's visit destroyed any hope of me following my original career choice. Anyway, here's chp 2 and I hope you enjoyed it. Chapter three is going to take a while unfortunately, and I apologize in advance for that.**

 **Thank you again for reading and please leave a comment, critique, or other review if you can; it genuinely brightens my day when I see people taking an interest.**

 **Ilikecartoonsandzombies & Some Randy: I hope this chapter was worth the wait, my dudes and/or dudettes.**


	3. It's getting Worse

_**Wednesday 03:45, January 24th… Wings of Freedom Bar & Tavern, The Bronx**_

* * *

"Is he alive?" Connie whispered, a look of sympathetic concern on his usually smiling face.

Mikasa ignored him, too busy staring at her friend lying on plastic sheets. Her hands shook as she felt an overwhelming tide of dismay settle over her body. Shame festered in her stomach, remembering how she had terrified and tormented Armin. Had she really become so cruel?

The dark-haired woman kneeled down next to him, quickly checked his pulse and then peeling off his stained jacket, leaving him in a filthy, blue long-sleeved shirt. She pulled the shirt up, wincing when she saw that her friend's entire torso and stomach was nothing but one angry black and blue bruise. She carefully prodded his ribcage, worry seeping out of her posture and face while she felt ribs floating around, only barely confined by their spiderweb of thin flesh and injured skin.

 _How the hell did this happen? You shouldn't be here Armin. You should still be in college. What were you doing in the Bronx?_

Connie crouched next to her and cleared his throat to get her attention.

Mikasa glanced at him before saying, "He's alive, although his internal injuries are out of my experience to deal with."

"Didn't you get medical training with the Marines?" Connie asked.

"Basic first aid. I can splint a broken limb or administer a hemostatic agent* but most casualties would be evacuated so they could be treated by surgeons."

"Oh. Does Eren know any more about it?"

She shook her head, "Eren went through the same training I did. Neither of us were medics."

Armin's breathing strained, his already shallow breaths turned to hacking coughs as blood pooled in the back of his throat. Mikasa immediately grabbed his shoulder and hip and rolled him onto his uninjured side, clearing his airway and letting him draw breath.

She let out a deep, shuddering sigh and wiped away the blood droplets that speckled her friend's agony-ridden and blanched features.

"Connie, help me move him to one of the spare bedrooms." Mikasa ordered, hoisting Armin's unmoving body into her arms. She noticed that he didn't weigh much more than when they were teens, even though he had grown a few inches in height since she last saw him. "His clothes are soaked and he's been lying on the cold floor, he might develop hypothermia."

"It is the beginning of winter…" Connie agreed, and carefully placed his hands underneath Armin in order to help distribute the weight away from his injuries.

Together they carried Armin out of the garage and into one of the Tavern's empty bedrooms that Krista made sure to have ready in case a 104th member needed a place to crash. They laid him on the bed, making sure not to jostle him and risk aggravating his injuries.

 _I need to call Jean. He can look into this, look into his college records._

Mikasa took a seat on the bed next to Armin, quickly checking his pulse before turning to her subordinate. "Connie give me your phone, please."

"Uhh. Sure." He mumbled as he handed over an old, battered flip-phone to her.

She flipped it open and scrolled down his contacts, selecting Jean's name and hit the 'talk' button.

The line rang for a few long moments before Jean, voice muffled and strained from sleep, answered, "Hello? Connie the hell you calling so late for?"

"Jean, get down to the Freedom."

"Mikasa?!" His tone turned to shocked sputtering, "Uh-Hi! How's it goi- I mean- I'm on my right now."

"It's important. So be quick." She stated.

"I'm already halfway dressed, I'll be there in a few minutes, tops!"

"Good." Mikasa hung up and handed Connie's phone back to him, "Connie, do me a favor and check on Eren for me. See if he woke up yet."

"On it."

Mikasa watched him leave the room, then turned back to her friend. Armin's chest rose and fell in a steady but weak rhythm, his breathing evened into a light panting. He seemed to be in a more or less stable condition for now, she thought to herself.

She lightly brushed the flaxen strands away from his eyes, noticing that Armin still wore his hair in the same style he had back when they were kids. Compared to nowadays, they were happier times. Her face crinkled into a small smile, as a warm feeling of familiarity blossomed in her chest. A feeling that withered when the sensation of rooting around in a still-breathing corpse with her fingers invaded her mind. Oh, how things had changed...

A knock on the door made her look up, her body tensed automatically to jump into action. "Who is it?"

The door opened and revealed Krista standing in the doorway, a concerned pout on her face, "Can I come in Mikasa? Ymir said you needed help, and I want to know what's going on."

She walked up to the bed, staring wide-eyed at the brutalized occupant. "Who's this?"

"My brother, Armin." She stated blankly, then seeing the confusion on Krista's face, Mikasa mentally kicked herself for her lack of context.

"His grandfather adopted Eren and I when we were kids, we grew up together." Mikasa said, running her hand through Armin's hair gently, "I haven't seen him since he left for college a while back."

Krista shuffled over to Mikasa's side of the bed, paling when she got a closer look at the blood sweeping into his shirt, "What happened to him?" A flash of fear surfaced on her features, "Was this a retaliation?! Should I call everyone into the safehouse?"

"Connie hit him with his car." She muttered, a small surge of guilt resurfaced in her mind, "On the way back from the docks."

"You mean by accident." Krista stated.

"Of course. Connie doesn't usually go around running over homeless people." Mikasa clarified, then stood up and turned to leave, "Krista, could you please keep an eye on Armin until Marco gets here? I'm going to go take a walk, clear my head."

Krista nodded, happy to help one of her friends, "I'll get him some fresh clothes and some hot soup too!"

Mikasa acknowledged her then strode through the doorway, closing it behind her quietly and leaned against the firm wood heavily. Her hands shot up to cover her mouth as muted sobs escaped her throat, tearing out of her mouth with greater and greater force. The stress, fear, and shame of the past eight hours had pushed the Lieutenant to the brink, and now that she was alone for a few brief seconds she could let herself be weak for just for a moment. Her face flushed and a few sorrowful tears streamed down from her tightly shut eyes, lightly staining her scarf.

* * *

 _ **Wednesday 03:50, January 24th… Wings of Freedom Bar & Tavern, The Bronx**_

* * *

Thump, thump. Thump, thump. Thump, thump.

Eren listened to the smooth, rhythmic drumbeat vibrate throughout his chest; thoroughly enjoying the feeling of his heart pumping with a simple, easy vigor.

Thump, thump. Thump, thump. Thump, thump.

His foggy senses slowly expanded their reach, as his body became aware of the cool floor underneath his back, of the strain and discomfort his neck was in from leaning against the wall.

Thump, thump. Thump, thump. Thump, thump.

He flexed his fingers together, transfixed by the feeling of muscles and bones pulling his digits into place. The sensation of warm skin meeting and shifting as he rubbed his fingers against his palm brought a perception of wonder to his mind.

Thump, thump. Thump, thump. Thump, thump.

Eren's brain slowly began to relax and unwind, like a gymnast stretching after a workout. Still sluggish in his haze, he thought,

 _Man, this feels great. I can stay like this forever…_

Who wouldn't want to stay like this?

Thump, thump. Thump, thump. Thump, thump.

Suddenly, the comfortable feeling of warmth was stolen from him with a tide of fierce cold. The chill moved so fast that before Eren could understand what had happened, his entire body was stabbed with knives of frost. The shock made him gasp for air, and as his breath left his mouth a stream of liquid ice forced it's frigid fingers down his throat.

Thumpthumpthumpthumpthumpthumpthump.

He choked and thrashed violently, crashing into the smooth restraining walls that surrounded him. His mind screamed at him, trying to spur him into action.

 _I'm trapped! The fuck, what is this?!_

"Yo, Eren calm down there, man." A voice echoed from above, "You're in the basement shower."

The stream of cold water stopped, and Eren slowly wiped away the brisk water from his eyes.

"Who the fuck…" He growled, glaring at Connie with utter malice, "Dumps ice cold water on their boss?!"

Connie shrugged, a goofy smile on his face, "Sorry, today was a bit rough. So I wanted to lighten the mood a little. Honestly, that was fucking hilarious! You looked like you were having a seizure."

Eren groaned as his head pounded with a splitting headache, the remnants of the methamphetamines still in his system. "What did I miss?"

The shorter man shuffled awkwardly, but Eren didn't notice. "Uh. Nothing much. You've only been out for a little while, Mikasa just wanted me to come down and check on you while she's waiting for Marco to fix up Ar- I mean, she's waiting for Marco and Jean to come down so we can, uh, inform them about the titans we killed today."

Eren gingerly rubbed the bruises on his throat, wincing slightly at the memory of the steaming, bloody hand wrapped around it. "What about those freaks?"

The gangster fumbled around in light panic, trying to keep his boss from noticing his lie. He groped around for topic to present, "About how…" He rubbed the back of his closely shaven head awkwardly, "Ah! About how calling them both "Titans" is really confusing!"

Water streamed down his face as Eren pulled himself into sitting position, supporting his back on the concrete shower wall. His normally vibrant green eyes seemed sunken and unfocused, "What do you mean 'them'?"

Connie pressed his advantage, "Well, we call those giant, mutant freaks 'titans' but we also call the gang 'titans' too, so it can get a little confusing. Like if somebody just yelled 'titans' in the middle of a fight we wouldn't know if they were talking about the big ones or the gang itself."

"The fuck does it matter? The mutant titans are extremely rare anyway." Eren told him, "I've only seen them once before the warehouse and that was almost ten years ago."

He looked up at Connie, his teeth grinding together at the memories surfacing in his mind bringing the all too familiar and welcome tide of hate. His subordinate stepped back unconsciously, unnerved by the murderous glint in his boss' eye.

"It doesn't matter what we call them, Connie." Eren declared vehemently, then paused, "Do you know why?"

"Because they're really rare?" The gangster guessed.

"No cigar, _amico**_." Eren tittered, as he stood to his full height; his soaked body and pale, sunken features casting the illusion of a drowned man. Eren let his thoughts swarm and pool together, stirred by a few residue streaks of adrenaline,

"It's because we'll slaughter them all, drag them from their safe houses, and burn their names from the world's memory." Eren swore, then whispered to himself, "We have to. I promised I would."

He shivered suddenly, grabbed a nearby towel, and started drying himself off. He looked up, hair ruffled and messy, and barked out, "Connie, do my a favor and call our client. Tell him we got the damn briefcase."

"On it." Connie turned to leave, but paused to throw a concerned glance over his shoulder, "By the way, you should chillout a little before Mikasa comes looking for you. You know she hates seeing you like this."

Eren didn't hear him, preoccupied with the reflection in the mirror.

* * *

 _ **Wednesday ?:?, January 24th… [REDACTED]**_

* * *

"Sir. The operation was a success. Longsword is on it's way back with the package."

Erwin leaned back in his seat, exhaling deeply in relief as the passing day's tension evaporated from his body. It was late and he had not net managed to find the time to rest, instead spending hours pouring over the many overlapping, city maps sprawled out on the marble table before him.

 _Another infestation stomped out. But there will be more._

"And Levi squad? What's their status?" He asked, his voice drawn and low.

His subordinate, Mike, smirked and held up his hand in an 'A-OK' sign. Erwin nodded, the death grip of concern and responsibility lessened at the news that everything went off without a hitch.

"This is excellent news, Mike." He announced, standing from his chair and motioned Mike to follow him out the sparsely decorated room.

Together the two men strode through almost empty halls, the only other people they met were heavily armed guards who hastily snapped to attention as they saw the duo. Erwin quietly acknowledged at them, confident in the knowledge that his mansion was secure from attack.

The pair stopped in front of a large window, and Erwin briefly admired the view it offered. The grounds outside bustled with movement as workers, forklifts, and overseers toiled to load huge wooden crates into a the fleet of semi trucks, "Good thing we decided to expand our operation, otherwise we wouldn't be able to handle this kind output."

Mike nodded, "I never thought we would have this kind of output. It's almost like every criminal in the western hemisphere suddenly needs a constant stream of guns…"

"The titans have declared war on every criminal organization in America." Erwin replied, tightening his tie and adjusting the fit of his suit while he had a chance. "Everybody needs _protection,_ Mike."

Erwin had discreetly purchased this roughly 5,600 acres of land only a few years ago; enticed by the three-story mansion, dense forests, and an abandoned silver mine on the property. The Legion had at that time lacked a central headquarters in North America, preferring instead to use an expansive network of safehouses, shell companies, and distribution centers to ferry their goods. For years Levi squad had been bunked in RV campers, moving place to place as a way to avoid law enforcement.

His plants in the media had done their job splendidly, easily explaining away the largest land deal in American history since the Biltmore manor as a new-money business mogul spending his billions on trying to preserve old historical sites. His lawyers spent days spinning webs of deceit and dead ends out of ownership papers and shell companies; one day the mines were being refurbished for use by a tour company, another day the forest was being declared a private wildlife sanctuary. In reality, the property was shaped into a criminal super-haven. With the forest full of cameras and booby traps that could be activated in case of attack, the mine now a massive underground warehouse full of counterfeiting machines, narcotics laboratories, and even a small weapons factory. He honestly felt no small measure of pride as he surveyed his territory.

 _This. This is what we have been working for. What I've been working for._

"The recruiters are waiting for you, sir." Mike reminded him.

Erwin breathed in deeply, getting back into his work mindset, "Then let's go see what they found for us then."

The pair resumed their walk, and in a few more minutes they arrived outside a small boardroom, formerly a private dining room. One of the guards standing outside the door saluted and pulled the finely-carved wooden door open for them.

In a moment, everyone inside the boardroom jumped to their feet and snapped into a salute. Together they slammed their fists over their heart and bellowed, "GOOD MORNING, CENTURION!"

"As you were." Erwin replied, waiting for others to be seated before himself sitting down. Mike stood behind him, hands resting at the small of his back.

"Good morning, gentlemen. And ladies." Erwin added, nodding to Marlene, "I'll get right to the point. Any success finding new potential?"

The four recruiters looked at each briefly. Then a tall, tan-skinned man named Keiji spoke first, "The gang I was assigned to monitor was disbanded before I had a chance to test them."

"Titans?" Erwin wondered.

The recruiter shook his head, "A sting operation from the LAPD swat unit. Only survivors are incarcerated in a supermax.***"

Another man with large nose and pompadour haircut cut in, "The motorcycle gang I scouted out tore itself apart, started a small civil war. No survivors. The last member died in an automotive accident."

Marlene snorted in amusement, "Gelgar, it doesn't count as an accident if you hit him with your car."

Gelgar frowned, "It wasn't me this time. _Honest._ "

"What about you, Marlene?" Erwin asked, steering the conversation back on course, "What happened with the _Lobos rey?_ "

"Slaughtered by titans." The bright-eyed woman told them, still quite chipper. "But to their credit, they _almost_ passed the trial."

Mike sniffed slightly, and Erwin's frown deepened, "So we are oh for three thus far. Ness, do you have any news to share with the group?"

Ness adjusted the white bandana tied on his head and smiled at Erwin, "Yes I do!" He replied cheerfully, "And it's good news too."

Erwin leaned forward and motioned for him to continue.

"They passed the test." Ness responded, "Even killed a few C-class titans. I watched all of it on a secure feed. I think they would be a great addition to the Legion, Sir."

"What about a background check?" Erwin asked, "You know we have high standards here, Ness."

"I checked them out. Most of them are the standard that we know and love, angry boys from broken homes and the like. But their leadership..." Ness whistled, a huge smile on his face, "We're talking years overseas, deep in the shit. These two joined up with the Corps as soon as they were old enough to fuck."

Marlene chuckled loudly, brushing her blonde hair out of her face, "Charming as always Ness."

"Military and criminal experience, that's good sign." Erwin commented, ignoring the two recruiters chatter, "How did they react when they encounter Titans for the first time?"

"Oh, that wasn't their first time." Ness said, "Turns out these guys have been trying find Titans to kill for a while. The bosses eyes lit up when I told him."

"Another good sign." Erwin said, "Means there's more to them than just profit."

"There is just one thing that you might want to know about..." Ness told him.

"And what would that be?" The centurion asked, his voice low.

"The gang in questioned was, until a year or two ago, led by Keith Shadis."

A deep silence cast over the meeting, the recruiters fearfully glanced at each other before looking to Erwin for orders.

He waited for a few moments, then stood and smoothed out his tie. "Ness, head back to them immediately and monitor them until further orders are given. The rest of you are to report to the mess hall for breakfast, then receive your new assignments from the Legate*. You are excused."

He turned on his heel, strode to the door, and laid a hand on the golden knob. "And remember, ladies and gentlemen." He added, his back turned to them, "Nothing we discuss ever leaves this room. Safe travels."

He left, leaving the words to hang.

* * *

 _ **Wednesday 04:10, January 24th… The Bronx**_

* * *

Marlo stretched his arms over his head, accidentally bumping into the roof of his patrol car. He wasn't used to staying up for so long, but with the recent shift changes at his precinct, he and his partner had been forced to take later and longer tours to keep up.

 _Damn quotas. I thought I'd seen the last of them when I left traffic behind._

He yawned loudly, struggling to stay alert, while waiting for his partner to come back. The rain refused to let up, the constant sounds of water hitting metal created a soothing lullaby that threatened to lull him to sleep.

Suddenly the door to his car was roughly pulled open and small figure cloaked in black forced it's way inside.

"JESUS CHRIST!" Marlo yelped, reaching for the glock holstered at his belt.

"What ails you my son?" The figure replied, in a poorly disguised high-pitched, feminine voice.

Marlo slumped back into the seat in embarrassment, "God damn it Hitch, you scared the shit out of me!"

The figure lazily pulled the hood back from her waterproof poncho, and shook the stray drops of rain from her strawberry blonde hair.

"I'll bet you're tons of fun on Halloween, _Marley_." She said with a giggle, which burst into full blown laughter when Marlo genuinely flinched at the sound of his old nickname.

"I told you not to call me that." He mumbled, staring out the window to avoid gawking at his partner.

"I know but you're so straight-laced all the time." Hitch replied, smoothing her hair into place and donning her police hat, "I mean even your name sounds serious."

He glanced over at her, lightly offended, "What's wrong with my name?"

"Nothing! But you gotta admit that 'Freudenberg' sounds like the name of a police coroner on TV." She said, before handing him a small white box labeled 'Tony's Doughnuts' and a large cup of coffee.

"Thanks. I was about to nod off and no, it does not sound like-"

"Car 445, car 445. Respond car 445." The dashboard radio crackled to life.

 _Oh C'mon! We just got breakfast._

Hitch sighed, and sipped her coffee, "Promise me, if this is 'Mrs. the-commies-have-bugged-my-fridge' again then we take our time and finish our coffee and doughnuts."

Marlo grabbed the two-way radio, "This is car 445, go ahead dispatch."

"A civilian reported a 10-10P a few blocks from your location. Are you available to check it out?"

"10-4, dispatch. We're handle it."

"Thanks, Marlo. Sending the address to your GPS."

He pulled the car into drive and accelerated down the road, clicking the windshield wipers into full gear as he did. Hitch sighed, and turning to him, said "A suspicious person report? In the middle of a rainstorm?"

"Probably just a drunken homeless man someone saw from their apartment window." Marlo replied, the rush of adrenaline pumping away his fatigue, "Hopefully we won't spend too much time outside."

His partner read the address with interest, a look of confusion on her face, "Wait… That can't be right."

Marlo glanced at her, concerned, "What can't be right?"

Hitch ignored him, instead grabbing the radio and calling in, "Dispatch, are you sure that you sent the right address?"

The radio remained silent for a moment before buzzing, "Yes, I'm sure."

"Shit." Hitch swore under her breath, "10-4, over and out."

She flipped off the radio, "Marlo, that address belongs to a vacant lot. Used to be a nice little Greek cafe, but that got demolished when the city built an overpass right above it."

"I think I drove past it a few times." Marlo admitted, "A few vagrants are squatting there."

Hitch's eyes widened with surprise, "And you didn't arrest them for trespassing, Officer Freudenberg?"

"They weren't hurting anybody!" He hastily defended himself, "And I stop by once a week or so to check on them."

Hitch snorted with amusement. "Aw, that's adorable!" She cooed, lightly punching his arm, "You're such a softie under that by-the-book cover."

He pulled the car into a tight left-hand turn, eyes focused directly on the road ahead and lips pinched into an annoyed frown. After working the beat with her for more than a year, he knew better than to protest when she found something to tease him with. Like a shark smelling blood, she would home in the particularly effective jabs.

"We're here." The words came out a little too fast for his liking, and before she could notice his mistake, he stepped out into the pouring rain.

Even with the overpass providing shelter from the elements, the lot reminded him of pictures of a hurricane's aftermath. Corroded warning signs hung from a chain link fence that had seen much better days. Marlo shone his maglight through a particularly large tear that was decorated was decorated with small swaths of trash bags. "That's the front door."

His light fell upon a dirt encrusted phone booth, "And that's probably where the call came from."

"Must be serious then, nobody uses a payphone by choice," Hitch muttered, stepping beside him and shivering slightly, "C'mon, let's say hello to your friends."

"There's three of them last time I checked. Ben, Hugh, and an old man who can't talk." Marlo recounted as he walked to the 'door', "No drugs use or priors from what I can tell but-"

He cut himself off as a dark line of red reflected in the light.

 _Oh no..._

Hitch nudged him, "Is that a blood trail?" She whispered, one hand sliding down to her sidearm.

"It's coming from inside the lot." He whispered hoarsely.

Together the two officers drew their weapons and advanced to the hole in the fence. Their lights shone through, and Hitch bent low to see what's inside.

"I can't see anything. I'll go dee-FUCK!" She leaped back, slipping onto her side, as a gore slick arm shot out, fingers dragging in the mud.

Marlo reacted immediately, grabbing Hitch by the arm and pulling her away from the gap just as the man's grubby head appeared, a look of terror carved into his face. "Help! Please!"

A second hand reached out to them, but neither police officers moved to help. "It's coming! It's coming!" The man screamed, repeating the same words again and again while clawing his way to them.

A deep bass-like rumbling came from the lot, and with a wet ripping sound, the man was dragged back through the gap. For a long moment the cops stood in the howling rain, horrified by the sight they just witnessed. That moment dragged on, until a muffled chewing sound rose over wind.

 _What the fuck?_

"M-marlo…" Hitch whispered, her voice trembling with fright, "We need to leave. Right now."

He nodded, too stunned to answer. He felt her grab his raincoat and slowly began leading him back to their car.

Thunder burst as lightning lit the night sky, and in surprise Hitch yelped loudly. Marlo stared at her in horror.

The chewing stopped.

A second later a monster slid through the gap. Marlo gagged as he watched the emaciated, starving demon straighten itself with it's overly long and unnaturally thin limbs. It's pale, naked flesh shined bright with blood and rainwater.

It let out another deep rumble as it twisted its head unnaturally from side to side, searching for prey. Marlo couldn't understand how the thing could see at all, a long mane of dark hair obscured it's face.

"Oh my god, ohmygod ohmygod!" Hitch babbled softly, her hands shaking.

The freak halted its search, the roll of it's voice slowly gaining in volume as it's head zeroed in on them. It shambled forward into their lights, feeling around it's environment with long, spindly fingers.

"Run!" Hitch shouted, raised her pistol and squeezed the trigger. The round struck home, smashing into the freak's chest and stumbling it. Before she had a chance to fire again, the thing recovered and lunged at them, it's rapid gait shredding the space between them.

Marlo flinched as the monster stood over him, the rumbles it made vibrating the air around him. "No!" Was all he got out before being thrown to the ground from the thing's backhand swing, his pistol and flashlight flung from his hands and disappeared among the trash of the street.

Hitch fired again, hitting it in the jaw and decorating the muddy ground with broken teeth. It stomped its foot on Marlo's chest, knocking the breath out of his lungs, then struck out and grabbed Hitch's arm and raised her into the air. Marlo watched in stupefied disbelief as it effortlessly hurled her into their car.

"Hitch!" He croaked, still struggling to breath with the pressure on his chest. She lay unmoving among broken glass.

Another low-pitched growl came from the freak as it grabbed him by the head and bent over eye level to him. He renewed his struggle when its slimy teeth scraped the side of his face, as it attempted to bite him, not realizing that it lacked its lower jaw. Marlo punched out, slamming his fist against the creature's distorted face.

It croaked in annoyance and raised him high before pounding his head into the ground.

 _Smash._

Once.

 _Smash._

Twice.

 _Crunch._

Three times.

Marlo felt his body go limp, everything becoming quiet except for the deep vibrations from the freak. He zoned out for a little bit, weakly pushing against his attacker. It might have been due to his blurry vision but Marlo thought he saw the monster's jaw knit together under a veil of steam.

 _That's...new._

The world came to a halt as a gunshot rang out over the sound of rain, then another and another.

The freak twitched, shivered, and then rose to its full height of nine feet before collapsing into a pile of steaming flesh, like a burning puppet whose strings had been cut. The horrid rumbling finally ceased.

He breathed in deeply, braced his arm against the floor and pushed himself into a crumpled sitting position.

"H-hitch," he called out, his voice barely audible, "Hitch, are you OK?"

Marlo felt something warm slip down his face, contrasting with the cold rain drops. He reached up to wipe it away.

"Don't touch that."

He froze and stared up the speaker, a tall dark-haired woman holding a pistol in her hand. She walked up to him and grabbed his portable radio, pulling it from his belt.

Marlo weakly protested, trying to grab the radio out of her gloved hand.

"I'm trying to help. And you're bleeding from a head wound." She informed him, pulling her red scarf over mouth to disguise herself. "Lay down and try to stay awake."

He slumped back down into the mud, too disoriented to hold himself up.

She clicked the radio on and reported, "Officers down. Officers down." She glanced at the cop car, "Car 445 has two officers down. Send medical."

Having finished her message she tossed the radio away, then stashed her pistol away in her jacket.

"Good luck." She said, gave him a cold glance and walked away.

Marlo wondered, struggling to keep his thoughts coherent.

 _Who was... What was that thing? Where is Hitch?_

Minutes ticked by as the injured officer stared into the cloud-covered sky, too far gone to do anything but try to fight his swirling and blurry sight.

A loud groan came from the police car, shortly followed by a worried gasp.

"Marlo!" Hitch called out, her voice sounding far away to the semi-conscious man. Her face appeared over him, blurry and out-of-focus, as she kneeled next to him and gently held his head in her hands. "Say something damn it!"

"I'm fine." He mouthed, unable to make his voice work.

Hitch laughed, the normally joyful sound now more closely resembled a sob, "Oh thank god. You're ok, Marley. You're ok. Don't move and focus on my voice, ok? Blink twice if you understand."

He did. She nodded and drew her radio, "Dispatch, get a bus** over here _now_! I've got an officer with a serious head wound. Repeat, an officer has suffered a serious head wound. Fucking 10-54S!"

"An ambulance is has already been called to that location, ETA 5 minutes."

"You here that, Marley?" She said, "Five minutes, you gotta hang on for five minutes, ok?"

Marlo blinked twice, staring up at Hitch's worried features.

 _Five minutes. I can do that._

He told himself that, as he succumbed to the dark.

* * *

 **Hemostatic agent*- Hemostatics are applications designed to stem blood-flow through the accelerated promotion of clotting, Also known as an Antihemorrhagic.**

 **Amico**- The Italian word for 'friend'.**

 **Supermax***- Common slang for 'super-maximum security prison'.**

 **Legate*-** **A general in the Roman army, equivalent to a modern general officer.**

 **Bus**- A slang term for an ambulance.**

 **Police Codes used-**

 **10-4: Acknowledgement**

 **10-10P: Possible crime, Suspicious person**

 **10-54S: Ambulance case, Serious**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Attack on Titan or it's characters. Nor do I own anything in New York City.**

 **Hi, good to see you guys again. This chapter was particularly annoying to write, as I found that I used the same descriptive words over and over. As always the next chapter is probably gonna take a while, through hopefully faster than this one as I now have steady employment and a roof over my head. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and thank you very much for taking the time read my fanfiction. Please do not hesitate to post a review, as they genuinely brighten my day and help improve my writing.**

 **Ilikecartoonsandzombies: Glad to hear you're enjoying it. Here's some more Legion and some more Armin not being ok. And I'm not giving up on this fanfic. I got too much headcannon to write about!**

 **Some Randy: I hope they are still in character in this chapter. I promise I didn't rush this chapter. Not at all. Yup.**

 **eren jeager: Here's more!**

 **Quickly updated and fixed a few errors on 4/17/2017.**

 **Changed B-class to C-class on 8/1/2017**

 **Chapter 3 revised on 11/5/2017**


	4. A Mask with no Eyes

_**Wednesday 05:00, January 24th… Wings of Freedom Bar & Tavern, The Bronx**_

* * *

"Ah! Looks like he's coming to!"

Armin flinched away from the bright light shining in his eye, blinking away tears and letting a deep, wheezy groan escape from his lips.

The bright invasive light disappeared, allowing him to slowly open his still bleary eyes. At first all he could make out were two blurry shapes, but as he oriented himself back to reality, the shapes became concerned faces staring at him.

"Hey there, buddy." A dark haired man with freckles decorating his face spoke up, his voice gentle and his smile shining with optimism, "How are you feeling?"

Painful. That's how he felt. His entire body throbbed with a dull but ever-present agony. Every movement, no matter how subtle, brought a sensation of rubbing his bones against coarse sandpaper inside his chest. He tried to reply to the man's query, but succeeded only in provoking a few harsh coughs. He glanced down, flinching at the sight of his torso wrapped in a shiny brace.

"I don't think he should be trying to talk right now." A soft, angelic voice came from the left of Armin. He nodded, grateful that someone understood his current predicament.

"I concur. I was just trying to put him at ease." The man replied, before addressing his patient again. "My name is Marco and I'll be your doctor for today. Don't worry, I am an actual doctor."

Armin wanted to comment on how the freckled man-"Marco"-looked rather young for a fully fledged doctor, but his throat ached too badly to speak.

"From what I hear from my colleague over here," He gestured to someone to Armin's left, a short blonde lady who waved happily at him. "One of our associates hit you with his car. That pain you feel is coming from some damage in your upper chest and abdominal region, so I suggest that you try to stay still for a little while. At least until I give you a shot."

"You also shouldn't move your arm right now." The blonde woman chipped in, pointing to his heavily bandaged left arm, "You're going to have a few manly looking scars once you heal."

Marco reached for the bedstand, retrieving a small hypodermic needle and carefully filling it from a small plastic bottle. He gave Armin a sympathetic smile, "Fortunately you don't seem to have any intracranial hemorrhaging- I mean, you don't seem to be bleeding inside your skull. So you got lucky in that respect. And now that you're awake and seem relatively coherent, I feel safe in giving you a painkiller."

The promise of relief spurred Armin into jerkily nodding his head, his face contorted in pain and pleading. He flinched again when the needle broke his skin and then gradually relaxed as soothing numbness spread throughout his chest, reaching all the way to his tingling hands and feet. Marco quickly checked his pulse and again shined a light into his eyes. Armin wanted to tell him that he felt fine now but the numbness had settled around his lower jaw, making speech impossible even without the soreness of his throat.

The woman to his left giggled, the soft and lilting cadence enrapturing to him, "I think he's going to be alright now, Marco."

"Krista, If he's anything like our boss then he'll be on his feet by the end of the week. The important thing is to make sure he stays awake for the next twenty-four hours due to his concussion." Marco agreed, packing up his medical supplies as he spoke. "I'm gonna go check on the boss, before he starts… medicating."

"He's down in the saferoom, mellowing out." Krista told him, and stood up from her seat. "I'm going to go serve dinner. Sasha volunteered to watch him for the night."

"She volunteered to skip dinner?"

"Oh no, she already ate."

Marco shook his with amusement and with one final smile toward Armin, he and Krista left the room. Before the door could fully close, another woman pushed it open and shuffled over to the bedside. Her dark clothing was soaking wet and she wore a look of deep embarrassment that painted her face red.

"H-h-hello." She stuttered out, her left hand clasped over her right elbow, she tried to meet his eyes but instead rested her gaze on his collarbone. "I-I want to apologize for scaring you so badly before and for abducting you from the street. If it makes you feel better, none of us wanted to hurt you. I am sorry."

Slightly stunned by her show of remorse, Armin could only nod hesitantly, before giving her a small and strained smile.

The woman seemed to perk up at the sight, matching Armin's smile tenfold. "I am so glad that you are not dying!" She told him. He noticed that her words and enunciations were practiced, and she lacked the crisp New Yorker accent that he had grown accustomed to.

She leaned forward and gently took hold of his unbandaged hand, then softly and rather playfully shook it, "Happy to meet you, Armin. I'm Sasha!"

Looks like he made a friend. A friend that appeared to be involved in rather shady business but a friend nevertheless.

* * *

 _ **Wednesday 05:05, January 24th… On the road to the Wings of Freedom**_

* * *

Fingers tapping on the dashboard in time to a morose beat, Jean sped through the gloomy deserted streets of the Bronx. The powerful eight-cylinder engine of his sports car drowning out all other sounds, even the rain.

He grumbled to himself inwardly, for he had dressed hastily and his normally handsome features were drawn with fatigue. And that annoyed the hell out him.

Glancing at his cellphone for the fifth time in an hour, his annoyance grew at the lack messages. He didn't know why Mikasa had called him down to the Freedom at this time of night, but the silence put him on edge. More than likely it was connected to why he had been spending his nights with investigative reporters, gangsters, and officials; stealing away stories of massacres and murders hidden away from the public eye with his soft touch and bright smile. Then delivering them to Mikasa, so she could pick through the data and help plan the 104th's next move. Or maybe this meeting was about the recant favor Mikasa asked of him.

 _She probably just wants an update. Don't know why she thought it was important enough to pull me away from titan hunting though._

Picking up his phone again he grunted "Fuck it." and dialed Mikasa's number.

A few moments passed while he listened to it ring, steering lazily with his free hand on the leather-bound steering wheel. Blocks of cheap tenements, decorated with drug stores and laundromats, dominated either side of the road. He was almost to the Freedom.

"Hello." Mikasa's calm voice answered, slightly overcast by the digitized sound of rain.

"Hey, there. What's going on, isn't it a little sudden to call a meeting in the middle of the night. And are you outside? I can hear rain." He asked, decelerating so the noise of the engine did not overshadow his lieutenant's serene voice.

"There is no meeting." She answered, "Well... not an official one. Also you just drove past me."

Jean slammed on the brakes so suddenly that his car slid a few meters down the road, throwing his CD collections out of the door pocket and onto the floor. With a curse and a quick jerk of the wheel he pulled over to the sidewalk, taking care to not damage any of the CD cases lying at his feet.

Loud tapping sounded against his window, he leaned over and popped open the passenger seat door. Mikasa hastily hopped inside and slammed the door shut, letting a tired breath as she reclined against the leather chair. Jean felt his pulse race when she brushed her fingers through her long, jet black hair; mesmerized by her pale skin and sculpted facial features. Sensing that he was staring at her, Mikasa turned to face Jean and said, "Thanks for the lift."

He snapped out of his slight daze remarkably smoothly, smiling at her nonchalantly. Noticing that she was still dressed in dark, baggy clothing; besides the deep red scarf tucked under her jacket collar, he stated quietly, "You're still in your work clothes, Mikasa."

She glanced down briefly, "Oh. I forgot to change earlier." She seemed to be surprised that she had forgotten something so important, "Shit, I must have been tracking trace evidence everywhere."

"The storm should wash any away." He said, resuming his drive to the Freedom, "Why were you out here anyway?"

Mikasa became silent, seeming to debate whether or not to tell him what's on her mind. Apparently she decided against it, and just stared out of the window. The air in the car filled with an uncomfortable silence as they drove.

"How did the job go?" He asked, trying to change the topic to something she might be more comfortable discussing.

"It went fine. There was more resistance than we thought." She sighed, "Eren wasn't exaggerating about the titans."

A small ripple of surprise reached Jean's brain, "So we really are fighting monsters? They aren't just roided out gangbangers?"

Mikasa nodded solemnly, turning back to face him, "The first wave were street trash, probably flunkies or just freshly jumped in. The second team… they survived a few dozen gunshot wounds before we finished them." She shifted, glancing away from him, "One managed to attack Eren, even with it's lower half missing."

She looked down at her sleeves, "Odd, I was covered in blood after we killed it. Looks like it got washed away in the rain."

"I'm sorry that you had to do that." He told her softly.

They pulled into the Freedom's parking lot a moment later. He turned off the engine and started picking through the fallen CDs, carefully placing them in their proper spots.

"Jean, before we go inside." Mikasa's voice took on an almost nervous cadence, a far cry from her usual commanding monotone.

Jean felt his pulse quicken, it wasn't often that Mikasa seemed nervous. "Yes?"

"Any news about my, um, request?" She quietly asked him.

"Oh, that." Jean let out a disappointed sigh and sunk back into his seat.

 _Of course that's the only reason she's nervous. She doesn't want Eren to find out we've been plotting behind his back._

"I found something pretty interesting about our client, Harry Grestan. Wanna guess what it is?" He deadpanned to her.

"Not particularly."

"He is a native to Manhattan, worked as a car salesman, and he died in 1981."

"So what you're saying is that you hit a dead end." She stated.

He threw his hands up in frustration, "What do you want me to do? You gave me a name, asked me to discreetly find out everything about that name and I did! I even visited his grave to make sure. Our client used a fake name, he probably just looked up old obituaries in newspaper archives."

"He knew Eren and I by name. He basically _gave_ us the time and location of those titans. And he knew how to kill the larger ones." Mikasa snapped at him, annoyed at his lack of results. "Jean, the entire 104th has been hunting titans for months and all we got was a few drug deals between junkies; then suddenly this guy comes out of the blue, tips us off to an upcoming raid which happened to be reinforced by four deformed monsters, and you want me to believe that all he wants in return is an empty briefcase. That doesn't seem strange to you?"

"Sounds like deus ex machina to me." Jean replied, "Wait… What empty briefcase?"

"Our objective was to retrieve a briefcase that was locked away in a safe." She said, "And said briefcase happened to be both unlocked and empty. I checked it on the way back."

"So he played us? Maybe he wanted those titans killed but didn't want to fork over the cash for a gang hit?"

"We're going to ask him ourselves… as soon as we find him." Mikasa told him, popping open the door and stepping outside.

Jean joined her, shivering in the freezing storm, "You got a plan on how to find him, Mikasa?"

"No, but I'd bet that he'll show himself eventually." She said. "After all. We did a pretty good job, so it would be natural for him to hire us again. Or maybe even introduce us to his boss."

Jean nodded, "For whom did he say he worked for?"

"He didn't."

Together they walked silently into the Freedom, soft lighting and the smell of booze settling onto them, bringing Jean an immediate sense of belonging.

Jean's love for the bar was second only to Krista's, he truly loved everything about the place. He loved the dozens of posters immortalizing the past performances of strung out punk and rock bands that decorated the walls. He loved the delicious food that was just the right amount of grease to it. He loved the constant parade of societal rejects, criminals, and delinquent teenagers that frequented here when the sun went down.

Connie and Ymir looked up from their game of cards, the two gangsters smiling in greeting.

This was home.

"Hey hey, Jean!" Connie yells across the room, "We haven't seen you here for a while, where you been, man?"

"Nowhere important, just cruising and carousing with famous celebrities. Partying with rockstars and sleeping with a new model every night." Jean replied, donning a overly smug tone and flamboyant hand gestures, "You know, bourgeois shit."

Connie's face crinkled in confusion, "I don't speak french, Jean."

Jean loved messing with Connie.

"It means upper-class, Connie." Mikasa informed him, accepting the beer that Ymir handed her with nod.

The bald gangster made a soft "Oh!" with his mouth and idly dropped a deck of cards in front of Jean, who quickly begun flashily shuffling them, eager to show off his skills.

Mikasa watched as he dealt out hands for the next game, refusing Jean's offer to play but still added a few crumpled dollar bills into the pot. "Is Marco still here?" She asked.

"Yup, he's down checking on Eren right now." Ymir replied, eyes focused on her cards.

The sound of the hallway door quietly closing preceded Marco's soft voice. "Actually, I've just finished treating Eren." He said, "No lasting damage. Well, not from today's physical violence at least."

Jean looked up, a deep frown on his lips, "Is that dumbass tweaking again?"

Mikasa subtly kicked him from under the table. "How is Armin?" She coolly demanded.

"He took quite a beating. Four of his ribs are broken and due to the concussive force he is also dealing with some pulmonary hemorrhaging. His left forearm has multiple lacerations and his wrist is dislocated, probably from being thrown onto the road so suddenly."

"How's his head?" Connie asked, "Looked like he bumped it real good form what I saw."

"A minor concussion, nothing to be worried about." Marco replied, after he sat down next to Jean, "I patched him up and administered an opiate, so he's gonna be comfortable for at least eight hours before I need to give him another one."

"Christ Marco, where do you keep getting so many drugs?" Ymir snorted, "Do you moonlight as a drug dealer on weekends?"

Jean opened his mouth to defend the freckled doctor but Mikasa cut him off, "Confidential information, Ymir."

Ymir rolled her eyes, "The normal person word is 'secret', G.I. Jane."

"It was agreed that it would be safer to keep our source a _secret._ " Mikasa countered, "Just in case one of us gets arrested."

"It's just a safety precaution." Marco said, offering Ymir an apologetic smile, "I trust you. All of you."

Jean's smile grew, both from Marco's words and from the sight of the full house in his hand. He subtly rotated the cards toward Mikasa, his smile turning cocky as he showed off the potential win. "I raise." He declared, tossing in a crisp bank note onto the table.

"Well, I'm folding…" Ymir drawled, "I ain't giving you a week's worth of tips."

"Me too." Connie agreed, dropping his hand dismissively.

"Mmm, too easy." Jean scooped the money into his pocket, snickering all the while.

"Clear the table, Dinner's served!" Krista called out. She brought a large pot to the table, resting it on a wide coaster and grinning at the surrounding gangsters. "I made _gulaschsuppe_ for you all."

A chorus of approval was offered and as the soup was distributed among them the bar was filled with sounds of easy laughter and camaraderie. The constant overbearing sense of danger and anticipation melted away from their minds, here they were safe. They would protect each other from the harshness of the world outside the doors, from the cruel hands that seek to cut their lives out of their bodies.

* * *

 _ **Wednesday 05:20, January 24th… Trauma Center, Washington Memorial Hospital**_

* * *

Hitch paced back and forth in the waiting room, soaked to the bone and sore as hell. She could feel her back muscles strain and groan with every step, her normally stylishly done hair hung limply in thick, muddy strands. The blue of her uniform splattered with dirt and asphalt-black muck.

She had gotten her appearance filthy before, chasing suspects across the city and scrounging for evidence in often disgusting crime scenes tended to dirty one's uniform, and usually the feeling of mud dripping down her collar would inspire a passionate monologue of bitching. A sublime soliloquy of complaining. The other officers affectionately referred to her as "HitchyBitchens" and her tirades as "Hitchfits". Both soon became deeply cherished inside jokes in their precinct.

But not a word has left her lips since she had been ushered into the pristine waiting room, now sullied by her muddy bootprints. Her shoulders shook, shivering in the too air-conditioned room and shaking with nervous apprehension.

"Officer Dreyse?" An old woman stepped into the waiting room, a clipboard in her hand and wearing nurses scrubs.

Hitch nearly pounced on the heavyset nurse, her eyes wide and shiny with worry. "Yes, that's me! Is my partner OK?! The paramedics took him to the trauma center thirty minutes ago and I haven't heard anything since and _Idon'tknowifhe'salightornotI'mabouttofreakout_!"

Instead of answering, the nurse gently laid her hand on Hitch's back and calmly said, "Breath officer, you're no help to anybody if you start to panic."

"I AM NOT PANICKING!" Realizing she had raised her voice, the young officer stopped and sucked in a lungful of air, forcing herself to speak normally. "Sorry, I just need to know if my partner is going to be Ok or not."

"I know, we got our top surgeon working on him right now." She replied, a calming smile on her face as she scribbled something onto her clipboard.

"Is he any good?"

"Of course dear, Dr. Bhatia is one of the best trauma surgeons in the tri-state area. He's been fixing up men in uniform since he earned his crow* back in fifte-four. Now, I need you to sign a few papers." The nurse reassured her, then held out a pen for Hitch to use.

Hitch mechanically took hold of the pen and was about to start signing when she noticed a droplet of red slowly gliding down the paper. She froze, staring at the line of bright crimson creeping towards her. A second, heavier drop fall onto the paper. Light green eyes instinctively followed it before noticing the source of the drops.

The underside of her hand was stained dark with thick, half-dried blood. The steel pen collected the excess, funneling it down it's length and pooling at it's tip, flowing like ink.

 _How did? When did I? Oh god… Is that Marlo's blood?!_

She gagged and dropped the pen, her other hand automatically cupping over mouth, causing an audible squelch and flooding her nose with the scent of wet copper. "Oh god no!" She cried out, about to be sick.

The nurse acted with a speed that belied her age as she grabbed Hitch's arm and lead her to a nearby restroom. Pushing open the door, she planted the shaking woman in front of the toilet then held her mud-encrusted hair back while Hitch threw up into the bowl.

"That was a close one." She chided her softly, her hand moving in calm circles against Hitch's back. "Get it all out, don't try to fight it now. The body's got a way of winning these things, hun."

Hitch felt her throat burn as dry heaves took over her, making her already shaky body shiver with disgust. Tears leaked from the corner of her eyes and collected the mud and grime that had stuck to her face. A small sob broke out, followed by another string of vomit. Suddenly she was glad that she had skipped dinner.

A minute passed, with only a few coughs to fill the silence. Hitch desperately wanted to wipe away the strands of slime from her lips but refused to bring her bloody hands any closer to her face.

"Did you get it all up?" The nurse asked quietly.

Hitch nodded and whispered hoarsely, "Can you get this puke off my face, please?"

The nurse nodded and carefully wiped away the hanging strands with a wad of toilet paper. Hitch thanked her, honestly too shaken to be embarrassed about having to have her face cleaned like a child. She stood, slightly unstable as her body recovered from her purge.

"There's a sink right back there." Hitch heard the nurse say, nodded dumbly, and shuffled to the sink.

Cranking the water open, she stuck her hands under the stream and violently scrubbed away at the half-dried blood. Using her nails to pry away the hardened filth, she rubbed her hands pink and raw.

 _Get it off, get it off, get it off. Just get it the fuck off!_

"You should wash some of the mud of your face, dear." The nurse advised.

"Thanks." Hitch mumbled, glancing at her disheveled appearance in the mirror. Her eyes fell back onto her hands, shuddering at the dark lines of blood caked under her fingernails. "I think this is Marlo's."

"What was that, hun?"

She inhaled deeply, her normally chipper voice stressed and dull with fatigue. "I think this blood came from my partner."

Before the nurse could reply, she continued, once again scrubbing at her hands viciously. "I was holding his head in my hands... I mean I saw him lying on the ground and I ran to him, and he wasn't moving. Then I felt the blood."

Hitch's voice raised an octave, distress bleeding out every of hectic movement. The nurse listened intently as she recounted the events of the night from receiving the call to them being ferried back to the hospital. Her brows furrowed in confusion when Hitch babbled on about a 'long-haired, humming freak', an expression that went unnoticed by the shaken officer.

A tense silence came over after Hitch paused to take another deep breath, "I saw his skull." She told the nurse suddenly, turning her head to focus on the nurse, "It had a crack in it, I think. But people recover from things like that, right?"

"He has a compound depressed skull fracture*. He's chances are up in the air at this point. I've seen a boy half his size pull through after being shot in six times, with two of those bullets going through his head." The nurse paused, then added, "I've also seen grown man die from brain hemorrhaging after tripping over his own two feet."

"That doesn't make me feel better." Hitch replied, a flicker of her old sarcasm surfacing.

"If you want to feel better then order a cab, go home, take a long shower, and get some shuteye."

She frowned, "I want to be here. In case he wakes up tonight."

A kind but rueful smile grew on the old nurse's face, "I knew you would, and since you're also employed by the city, I suppose you could wait in the staff room. It has couches, books, and even a few showers for the night shift. It's down the hall to the left. You should have it to yourself, we only have the night shift on right now."

Twenty minutes later Hitch stepped out of the shower room, refreshed and clean. She dressed back into her uniform, foregoing the stained button-down overshirt and poncho, preferring to stay in her NYPD t-shirt.

She dumped her extra clothes and duty gear onto the couch before collapsing into the seat next to it.

"It's almost morning…" She whispered to herself, glancing at the clock. "I still have two hours before my tour ends."

 _Sergeant Aiblinger is going to rip me a new one. Fuck it, they can drive here to get my statement. I need sleep…_

She sprawled out on the couch, completely drained and promptly went out like a light, her head resting on her stab vest.

* * *

 _ **Wednesday 07:00, January 24th… Minuteman Motel, Manhattan**_

* * *

Annie stared unflinchingly at the wall, her brain replaying images and memories of times past. The good and bad times twisting together into a jumbled mess. Sleep had refused to come to her troubled head, and all she could do was drift in a half-conscious state of mind. She hated when that happened.

Outside the storm grew, the wind gaining strength and violently shaking the window panes. Annie ignored them.

She barely noticed the sounds of rushing traffic just outside her window, she took no notice of the shouting that reverberated from next door. Her small body lay unmoving on the bed, the blinking of her pale blue eyes the only outside indication of life.

Her thoughts coalesced into one distinct memory. The day she left for the FBI academy. Her father had driven her to the airport that day. She had been nervous, almost scared at the thought of leaving the city she had grown up in. But excitement and a sense of pride had outweighed the fear, she had worked hard to earn her degree and now she was about to take her place among the most elite police force in the world. She could finally get away from the tiny, monotonous life she had led.

Her father had remained quiet throughout the drive. That wasn't unusual. Often the only words that would come out of his mouth were instructions. Annie couldn't recall the last time she had a normal conversation with her dad. He had always been a taciturn man, even before mom died.

When they arrived at her terminal, he had turned to her and suddenly hugged her. Annie remembered the sense of awkwardness that had enveloped her at that moment. Her father hardly touched her, except when correcting her form during training.

" _Remember this, Annie. The world is violent place. Everyone you will ever meet is hiding behind a mask. They mask their weakness. Their doubts. Their corruption. It doesn't matter who they are or whether they work with you or against you. You will be surrounded by people who want nothing but to advance in life, and they will climb over you to get there."_ His voice whispered in her ear, echoing from the memory, _"Your dad is the only one on your side. So, promise me that you will come home."_

"You were right." Annie whispered, her words disappearing into the empty room. "Everybody has a mask."

Another memory, sharp with hurt, came forth.

* * *

" _Recruit Leonhardt! Report to the head instructor's office, double time!"_

" _Yes, sir!" Annie saluted and bolted past the instructor, running through the hallways at the FBI training academy. The past weeks had been grueling for her but she had risen to the challenge. From classroom lectures to hand-to-hand combat she excelled past the other recruits, earning her no small amount of grudging and admiring looks. Top of her class, a natural agent._

 _She stopped in front of the office, fixing her uniform and practicing the words needed to gain entrance to the office. The door opened revealing her head instructor, a serious and very loud man in his late 40's._

" _Sir, Recruit Leonhardt requesting permission to enter. Sir!" The words were delivered perfectly, her salute was flawless. She was the best that her class had to offer and she made sure to act like it._

" _Permission granted, recruit." He said, stepping aside for to enter._

 _She took exactly three steps, slightly longer than her average strides to get any distance with them, and stood at attention in front of the steel desk._

" _At rest, recruit. There is someone I want you to meet." The instructor closed the door and then sat down behind his desk, his tone of voice as dry as ever._

 _Annie relaxed slightly, and looked at her surroundings more thoroughly. A brunette woman wearing FBI issued clothing stood to the right of her._

" _Hello, Annie. I'm Agent Van Wake from communications. You can talk with me normally, I'm here on special circumstances." Van Wake introduced herself cordially, smiling slightly at Annie._

" _Hello." Annie replied._

" _Ok Annie, when was the last time you had contact with your father?" The agent asked, pulling out a small notepad to write on._

" _The day I left for the academy, he drove me to the airport."_

" _That was nice of him. Do you remember if he acted strangely in anyway?"_

 _Annie glared at the woman, feeling suddenly defensive, "What are you talking about?"_

 _"Answer the question, recruit." The instructor ordered from the behind the desk._

 _"No. I guess. He might've been sad to see me go." Annie replied uncomfortably._

 _"I'll bet he was. Do you mind if I ask you a personal question, Annie?" Van Wake gave her a polite smile._

 _The small recruit shrugged, "Go ahead."_

 _"Do you remember you father's whereabouts on the night your mother died?"_

 _"I don't, my mom died when I was five." She said, unease radiating from her posture, "What is this about?"_

" _Was your father ever violent with your mother? Did they argue often or avoid each other?" The agent asked, her eyes glued to the paper pad in her hands._

" _What are implying?!" Annie snarled, anger quickly rising inside of her. She looked at her instructor, and asked, "Why are asking me about my father?"_

 _The instructor made eye contact with Van Wake, then nodded sadly at her._

 _Van Wake signed, then turned to Annie "Your father was involved in a shootout with sheriff's deputies during an altercation, yesterday. An APB was placed on him the day before and when law enforcement tried to arrest him at his house, he opened fire…" The agent paused, trying to find the correct words, "One deputy was killed. Your father set fire to his house before fleeing into the woods surrounding his property, and before the sheriff's could apprehend him, the fire spread to the woods."_

 _She broke off after that for a moment, putting one hand sympathetically on Annie's shoulder, "I'm sorry to tell you that he didn't make it out."_

 _Annie gaped at the agent, not able to believe the words that she was hearing. Her knees felt weak as she slumped down heavily unto the floor._

" _That's not true…" She told them, a tremor sounding through her voice, "You're lying."_

 _The agent kneeled down to her eye level, "The APB was issued by the detective that was investigating your mother's murder. He believes that your father was in some way responsible."_

 _Annie shook her head despondently, tears building in her crystal eyes._

 _Van Wake gave the young girl some time to adjust before continuing, "Do you have any recollection of him-"_

" _For god's sake, Agent." The instructor stepped in, "Does she look like she's in any state to answer questions?"_

 _The agent flinched slightly, embarrassed by her misstep, "I apologize, I just wanted to see if she had any new information to tell us. It's my first time inter-"_

" _You just told her the father who raised her burned to death, and that he may have brutally murdered her mother!" He barked out._

 _A small sound of distress came from Annie's throat at those words._

" _Shit." The instructor swore quietly, "Sorry."_

 _He stood from his desk and escorted Agent Van Wake out of the office, "Come back in a few days. Ask your questions then."_

 _Annie felt tears fall from her face, her eyes bright and shiny as she sobbed quietly on the office floor._

* * *

Her body quaked suddenly, making her feel as helpless as she did back then. Everybody had their masks.

* * *

 **Revised on 11/30/2017**

 **Earned their crow*- U.S. Navy slang for achieving the rank of Petty Officer Third Class.**

 **Compound Depressed Skull Fracture*- A fractured skull where the broken bones are displaced inward and the skin around the injury is split open.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Attack on Titan or it's characters. Nor do I own anything in New York City.**

 **Hello again, dear readers. Yes, I know it's been a while since I last updated, but in my defense, this chapter was a mess to write. Anyway I hope all of you enjoyed this new chapter and hopefully my writing is improving since the first chapter. Please leave a review if you feel inclined, I greatly enjoy interacting with you all. Thank you for reading.**

 **rollingwords: Thanks! If you want to read some other great AU fics, I'd recommend _Wir Werden Uns Wiedersehen, Echo Answers,_ and _Save the Last Dance._ I enjoyed all of those thoroughly.**


	5. We've been Busy this past Month

_**Monday 10:00, February 27th… 104th Street, The Bronx**_

* * *

There are many ways to get someone's attention. Common practice dictates that one would leave a polite voice message or a well-written email. Many organizations send solicitors to knock on doors and introduce themselves. A friend might call out to you from across the street and shout your name. A lover might leave a note near your bed or dress to attract your eye.

But to gain the attention of a gang, money and blood spoke loudest of all…

"Hands up! Don't move or I'll pull the trigger." Annie shouted, the threat clear in her voice.

She stood a few feet away from the counter of a small, out-of-the-way deli that she had picked out a few weeks beforehand. One gloved hand firmly held a .45 semi-automatic pistol, recently stolen from a collector, while her off-hand tossed an empty duffel bag on the counter.

"Fill it up, and don't you dare even _think_ of fucking holding out on me." Annie barked out, with a cold gaze from behind her mask.

The old shopkeeper mumbled something in panicked german, hastily emptied the dented cash register into the bag, and then pushed his meager earnings back to Annie. She glared at the paltry amount for a moment then vaulted over the counter and slammed the butt of her weapon into his face, breaking his nose open with a wet crunch.

The blonde's eyes sneered at shopkeeper as he fell back against the shelf; tears streaming from his green eyes and blood pouring from his shattered nose. Soft whimpering came next, muffled by his hands trying to stop the blood flow.

She snatched a handful dollars from the bag and shoved them into his face, smearing the bills in blood and tears before mockingly tossing them away. Annie sent a punch into the man's stomach and doubling him over, then brought her fist down on his back. Hard.

The old man dropped to the floor and lay there coughing.

"What the hell am I supposed to do with this?" She demanded, grabbing his head and forcing him to stare at the meager, bloody bank notes that decorated the floor. "This isn't enough to buy a tank of gas, the _fuck_ were you thinking trying to cheat me like that?!"

"Vat ist all I haff…" The shopkeeper sobbed, his broken nose thickening his accent.

"What did I say about holding out on me?!" She screamed at him, shoving the barrel of her pistol to his head, "I know your quaint little shop is laundering for the 104th. Five pm every Monday, you hand over a nice little take to your masters." She kicked him viciously in the side, "Now tell me where you keep the goods."

"Unter va carpith." The man groaned out, pointing to a bright green carpet a few feet away from her boots.

Annie pulled the carpet aside, revealing a loose floorboard underneath. A moment later she had pulled the old wood away and started shoving clear tape-wrapped bundles of cash into her duffel.

 _That's alot of cash..._

With the bag heavy with cash, Annie vaulted back over the counter and walked backwards to the door.

"Tell your boss that he can find me at the Harbor Master's on Boyle street. Eleven pm tonight." She called out to the shopkeeper.

She strode through the glass door, then ducked into a nearby alley. The work day was already in full swing and the alley was empty except for a few vagrants. She stashed her pistol in the waistband of her cargo pants and pulled the mask off, stowing it in the inner-pocket of her newly purchased used leather jacket. Her stride slowed as she distanced herself from the shop.

"That should get the king out of his castle." Annie muttered dryly to herself.

Cold wind gusted down the street, blowing her bangs into her face and pulling at the hair tied in her usual bun. She shivered violently, the cold draining energy from her small body. The bag of cash hung heavy on her shoulder, filling her mind with trickles of guilt. Guilt that she easily compartmentalized, a practice that she had long been proficient in.

A short walk brought her to today's motel. The cracked and tired looking building seemed to sag in the wind, its windows caged by metal bars. Annie stepped inside, ignoring a small and gaunt-looking man slumped down inside the hallway, and made her way to her room. She dumped her bag on the bed, laid down heavily beside it, and begun organizing the wrapped stacks of cash into neat piles in front of her.

When she was finished counting, sixty packages rested on her mattress. Annie let a breath of disbelief at the sight.

"Six thousand dollars… every week. And there's definitely more drop points out there…" Annie whispered, taken back by the sheer amount of cash that the 104th was taking in. She reached out across the bed, feeling around behind headboard for the hidden cellphone that Dok had given her last month. She freed it from it's duct taped position and dialed Bertholdt's number, waiting patiently for the agent to pick up.

"Hey, Ker. Everything going Ok?" Bertholdt's nervous cadence shone through even on the phone.

Annie bristled at her code name.

 _I still can't believe Dok named me after the Greek spirits of violent death. He must have known it would hit a little too close to home._

"I'm fine, Sinon." She replied, rolling her eyes at the grandiose names selected for them -what ever happened to Alpha and Bravo?- "I kicked the hornet's nest today. Hopefully it'll be enough to get Eren's attention."

"He's a bit trigger happy, so odds are that he's gonna show. How much did you get?"

"Six thousand."

Her handler cleared his throat nervously, "That's a lot for a weekly drop."

"You're telling me. I'm the one with stacks of stolen cash laid out on my bed." Annie lazily started toying with one of the packages. "Do you find it strange that these guys have stayed off the radar for so long?"

Bertholdt sniffled lightly, "New York's a big place. We can't see everything that's happening, especially down here in the low income neighborhoods. Hard to keep tabs on crooks when you can't afford enough cars to go around."

"Don't bullshit me, you read the same files I did. They aren't a bunch of dumb punks slinging dope and 'beefing', some of the 104th have military backgrounds and time overseas." The blonde eyed the clock hanging on the wall, idly counting the hours to until the meeting. "Fuck, Ackerman was on her way to making sergeant before she deserted, and Jaeger earned a commendation for bravery under fire. Let's not forget who was in charge before Jaeger took over…"

"Sounds pretty self-explanatory to me, their experience outclasses all of their competition and they have the discipline to avoid leaving much evidence behind. The local LEO's* have probably been trying to make charges stick for awhile, but beside a few misdemeanors and one or two assault charges they haven't had much success." Bertholdt said thoughtfully.

A few moments passed by in silence before Bertholdt cleared his throat, "You got a plan for the meeting tonight?"

"I'm meeting them in a fast food place, the Harbor Master's on Boyle street-"

"That's a great place, they make some great fish N' chips." Bertholdt cut in excitedly.

"-at eleven pm." Annie decided to ignore his remark, "I hand back their money, let them know that I'm currently looking for a new line of employment, and hope that Jaeger has enough sense to know a good thing when he sees it."

"What if he doesn't?" The taller agent's voice became even more worried than before.

"Best case scenario, Dok will kick me off the case and I move on with my life. Worst case..." Annie paused, an uncomfortable feeling of being watched settling over her, "Worst case, I get disappeared."

Her hand unconsciously snaked behind her back to retrieve her weapon. The feeling of the heavy polymer in her palm brought a sense of calm.

"We can provide support if you need us. We can pose as customers and keep on an eye on the meeting from across the room."

Annie snorted derisively, "Yes, because the 104th is dumb enough to start a gunfight in a public restaurant. The only thing you two would accomplish is making Jaeger suspicious of me." She paused for a moment, again glancing at the stolen money. "Well, _more_ suspicious anyway."

"Point taken. We'll set up a listening post from across the street then, if things get hairy then all you'd have to do is run across the street to us. Sound good?" Bertholdt asked.

"Deal." She glanced at the clock, wincing at the time. An hour had slipped by, reminding her of the need to start preparing immediately, "I have to get ready. I'll report in after the meeting."

"Good luck in there, Ker." Bertholdt replied, his tone saddening slightly before Annie hung up.

Tossing the phone away, Annie pushed herself back into sitting position and begun carefully packing the money back into her bag. Then she grabbed her weapon, popped the mag out and racked the slide to clear the chamber. She laid the unloaded weapon off to the side for now, walking across the room and retrieving the maintenance kit from her briefcase.

Annie burned a few quiet hours maintaining her weapon, an H&K USP Compact chambered in .45 caliber. She inspected it from every angle, searching for signs of damage or contamination. She nodded in appreciation as she finished, thankful that the collector had kept it in such fine condition.

Concluding her inspection, she reassembled the pistol and loaded it. Glancing at the clock once more, doubt once again bubbled to the forefront of her mind. She pushed it away, set a timer on her phone, before shrugging off her jacket and pulling off her sneakers. She flopped back down on the bed, staring at the ceiling as she tried to get some shut-eye.

 _What the fuck am I doing? All this risk… and for what? Proving to Dok that Legion is just a myth? What good would that do? If the Legion case goes under then the brass would stick us on some other bullshit case._

Sleep wasn't merciful to Annie this day. The woman's mind begun to twist and turn in on her. Bittersweet thoughts bubbled from her subconscious, spilling into her dreams, like a pot left to boil.

* * *

" _Annie, look over here!"_

 _Annie_ _turned her head to look at the source of the voice, then flinched as a bright flash of light suddenly blinded her._

" _AH!" She gasped, reflexively covering her now watery eyes with her hands. "What the hell was that?!"_

 _Mina appeared beside her, holding a camera in her small hands and excitedly giggling to herself. "Sorry, I forgot to turn the flash off! I was never any good with cameras."_

 _Annie looked mortified. She stared at the dark-haired woman as she processed what just happened. "You better delete that! Right now!"_

 _A pout appeared on Mina's face as she clutched the camera to chest protectively. "No way, you look fantastic!"_

 _She held up the screen so that Annie could see. Annie felt her stomach fill with butterflies as she stared at the photo of her dressed in a black, one-shoulder evening dress. Her hair freed from it's usual bun and framing her head like a pale golden crown._

" _See? Did I tell you or did I tell you? You look amazing!" Mina smiled happily at her, obviously excited for tonight._

 _Annie hung her head slightly, self-consciously pulling at the hem of her dress to try and make the fabric cover a little more. The dress however, seemed to have other ideas and tried its best to stand firm at the mid-thigh. Honestly, the way the dark cloth hugged her body, Annie was convinced that Mina had lied and bought her a dress an entire size smaller._

" _You know what, Mina... " She begun, about to find way to weasel out of her promise._

" _No take-backs!" Mina interrupted her, the smile changing into a look of sheer determination, "You promised me that if McVert gets convicted than we get to go celebrate at my favorite club! And now McVert's going to prison,_ _thanks to you!"_

" _Why can't we just go to a bar?" Annie asked, sharply aware of how much that sounded like whining._

" _Because you can't just spend you entire adult life staring at the TV while nursing a bottle of cheap beer, Annie! You need to get out there and socialize! Dance to some dumb pop songs, talk to someone new, meet some cute guys for cryin' out loud!" Mina declared, her newly braided hair swinging back and forth as her exasperation got the best of her. "You spend all of your time either working or locked away in your apartment, and honestly, I know that's your thing, but you have to learn how to have fun every once in awhile."_

 _She shook her head again, her nerves getting the better of her, "I can't even dance, Mina."_

" _Like, ninety percent of people at clubs can't dance! It's not like we gonna be waltzing at the president's ball or something." Mina told her._

" _I don't know…" Annie fussed, nervously running her hand through her hair._

 _Mina reached out and held Annie's fidgeting hands, smiling brightly at her, "Annie, listen to me. There's nothing to be afraid of! You're a badass cop who just put a psychopath away for good and I think you're one of the smartest and bravest people I've ever meet. I think you can handle a night out in a club."_

 _Her words staggered Annie, and she was unable to resist giving her only friend a small but grateful smile._

" _There we go!" Mina giggled, "Now, c'mon let's finish getting ready!"_

 _"Fine, but we're only doing this once, Ok?" Annie said._

 _" **That's fine. You took that chance away from me**." Mina's sweet voice twisted itself apart, the smile disappearing from her face. Rain poured from the ceiling, soaking the room, as blood oozed through her dress..._

* * *

Annie bolted upright, fighting away the boiling, burning waves of guilt and fear her mind was bathing in. Her breath came heavily and rapidly as she calmed herself, emotionally kicking herself back to reality. Now was not the time to visit ghosts, she thought. She ran her hand through her hair and groaned loudly. The nightmares were getting worse.

Her phone alarm went off.

"Time to go." She told herself.

* * *

 _ **Monday 23:00, February 27th… Harbor Master's Seafood & Grill, The Bronx**_

* * *

Annie sat in the corner booth, a bag of uneaten shrimp lay on the table before her. Her eyes darted to and from the doorway across the room, waiting for the 104th to make their entrance.

To her right a man was arguing with one of the two night shift employees on duty, who seemed to not care at all about the man's complaints. She had chosen the meeting time well, there was enough witnesses to discourage any of the 104th from attacking her openly but not enough to overhear their meeting. Two small security cameras surveyed the room and to top it off, Reiner and Bertholdt were just down the street with a laser microphone*. The odds were stacked in her favor, all she had to do was get her proverbial foot in the door and then the real work could begin.

She reached into the paper bag, her fingers slowly brushing away the breaded shrimp to reveal her pistol, hidden in plain sight and ready to be used. A little extra insurance never hurt anybody.

Well, it wouldn't hurt her anyway.

Ding-a-ling!

The welcome mat chimed, drawing her attention to the newcomers. Three men walked inside, two of them stood guard by the doors. The third man, his face concealed by a hood, walked right up to the arguing man and whispered something into his ear.

The man stopped arguing immediately, leaned in closer to the speaker and then nodded in Annie's direction.

 _A spy, huh? Smart._

The hooded man thanked the spy before dismissing him. The spy hastily made his way out of the building, a small stack of cash clasped in his hand. Annie watched, a sense of apprehension beginning to build in her, as the hooded man gestured over his shoulder before barking out, "Give me and my boys a little privacy, will ya."

Both cashiers nodded fearfully before disappearing through the front door, leaving Annie alone with the three gangsters.

Yet her face remained unimpressed and bored as she sat in her booth, slowly munching on her shrimp, waiting for one of them to join her.

And join one of them did. The hooded gangster roughly plopped himself down across from her, sighing heavily as he pulled down his hood. Two bright, bloodshot emerald eyes observed her as Eren Jaeger made himself comfortable on the hard plastic seats.

"So, I heard you wanted to meet with me." Jaeger started, his voice confrontational but still calm, "In fact I heard that you wanted to meet me so bad that you decided to rob an old man just to get my attention."

He paused for a moment before letting out a small, unamused laugh. "I don't know whether to be pissed or flattered."

Annie watched him for a few moments, taking in his body language and the look of annoyance in on his face, matching his actions with the profile she had made of him in her head. She noticed that one of his hands had sunk under the table, likely not far from a weapon.

 _Upfront, aggressive, and already prepared to get into fight. Definitely a marine._

"We gonna talk or are you just gonna sit there and waste my fucking time?" Jaeger growled, abandoning any pretense of being friendly.

Annie leaned back, hooked the duffel bag's strap with her foot and pulled it forward from its hiding place under her seat. Jaeger glanced down, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion at the sight.

"This yours?" Annie asked, her tone as neutral as her expression.

Jaeger slid the bag out from under the table and kicked it towards one of his men. "Count it." He ordered, not for a moment taking his eyes off the blonde across from him.

The lackey rushed to the bag, unzipped it and begun carefully counting the packs of cash within. The seconds dragged by, Jaeger still glaring at her and Annie coolly picking at her shrimp.

"It's all here, boss." The man reported as he swung the bag onto his back, "None of the packages been opened neither."

A look of thoughtfulness crossed Jaeger's face, he reached into his pocket- Annie's hand slid over the grip of her hidden pistol as he did so- and pulled out his phone. Annie glanced at the device, a question floating on the edge of her lips. Before she could ask he nonchalantly queued up a playlist and turned the speaker volume to max, filling the booth with late 80's rock n' roll.

"You a fan of AC/DC? Or are you more of a GNR type of girl?" He inquired of her, as if the two of them were just having a normal conversation and not verbally circling one another looking for weaknesses.

"Why are you playing music?" Annie was so curious that she almost forgot to act like she didn't care. But she did care, Jaeger was acting strangely. He had to have a goal in mind, even if it was just trying to regain the conversational initiative.

He snorted, then carefully propped his phone on the window sill, "Just to give us a little bit of privacy." He said, searching her face for a reaction.

 _Oh shit… The vibrations from his phone are going to make it impossible to hear us with the laser microphone. Reiner and Bertholdt aren't going to know if something's wrong._

"Oh and don't worry too much about those cameras." He told her smugly, "They're there just for show. So we got all the privacy in the world, our own little bubble. Nice ain't it? I'd even call it romantic!"

Annie glanced at the counter, hoping that there was a backdoor somewhere. Her little safeties were quickly collapsing around her and she suddenly did not feel as confident as she did a few minutes ago. In fact she would even have described this as feeling trapped.

"You a cop, girl?" Jaeger suddenly demanded, his off-hand tapping against the table in tune with _Ain't it Fun_.

Annie shook her head, "No, can't say I am."

He frowned, "Really? Because this whole 'giving me back my own money thing' stinks of a setup."

Annie shrugged, bottling her fear and discomfort away like she had trained to. "If you say so."

* * *

Eren felt the familiar stirrings of rage begun to build in his core. The blonde bitch sat there, uninterested and unresponsive, as if she had done nothing wrong to him. She had the balls to just _sit_ there and play word games.

"Oh is that it? 'If I say so.' That's all you're gonna give me?" He spat out mockingly, "I'm getting real tired of your fucking attitude; tell me why you pulled this little stunt or I'll dunk your pretty blonde head into the deep fryer."

"That wouldn't be a very smart thing for you to do." She said, giving him a disinterested look.

"That a threat?" He demanded.

She shook her head, the fringe of her hair swaying lightly at her movements. "I'm not stupid enough to threaten you in your home turf."

"But you still thought it was a good idea to rob and pistol whip someone on my turf." Eren's lips twisted into a sneer, "That's pretty fucking stupid."

She shrugged, "It was necessary."

"To. Do. _What?_ " Eren pressed.

"Isn't it obvious? I did it to prove my competence." She intoned, "It wasn't easy, you know. Your couriers do a good job of covering their tracks."

"And you did a fine fucking job. Now get to the point and tell me, _why._ "

"I want to in." She said. She popped another shrimp into her mouth and chewed it fully before continuing, "Full membership with the Hundred Fourth."

Eren couldn't believe his ears. He sat there, staring in shock at the nonplussed woman in front of him.

 _Did I hear her right? She can't be serious. She must be a fucking crazy person._

"You're fucking with me." Eren wished he didn't sound so stunned as he said that.

"No, I don't think I am." Was the only answer he got, before she continued to idly munch on her food.

The two stared at one another for a few moments, sizing each other up. As much he tried, Eren could not decipher any motives or emotion from the blonde's face. Honestly she made him a bit uncomfortable. Still she did manage to track down his couriers, so couldn't be a rookie.

"Why the Hundred Fourth? You must have a home turf somewhere." He asked, his anger dissipating as his interest built.

"Just got out of the pen. I needed a new place to work. So I came here." She said, purposely keeping her answers short and to the point. "I heard about the moves you and your crew are making across the Bronx. Color me impressed."

"Where did you do your bid*?"

"A fed lockup in Hazelton." She replied, then after a moment of thinking, added, "Wasted three years of my life in that fucking box."

"Get caught smoking that ganja or something, girl?"

Now it was her turn to glare at him, and he would be lying if he said it wasn't a little intimidating, "Someone I worked with got stupid and took a plea deal to cover their ass. Screwing me over was part of that deal. Oh, and before I forget."

The woman reached over the table and held out one slim hand, "Since we're going to be working together we might as well introduce ourselves. My name's Annie Leonhardt. Pleasure to meet you."

Eren took her hand, surprised to feel that it was as calloused as his own. He cleared his throat and replied, "Jaeger. Eren Jaeger. And you seem to be a bit deluded about us working together, I still haven't made up my mind about whether I should kill you or not."

She shrugged once again, "If you say so. But I have a feeling that I managed to capture your interest."

He released her hand and leaned back into his seat, resting one ankle over his knee as he did so. "Fuck, you're a weirdo. But I guess you're right on that point."

Eren stopped to think for a moment, then pulled a napkin off it's holder and quickly wrote an address on it.

"Come to this address tomorrow night. Then you can show me if you're cut out for the 104th."

Annie quietly read the address and pocketed the paper, before standing gracefully from her seat. "Looking forward to it."

She snatched up her bag of shrimp and walked to the door, completely ignoring the two gangsters guarding the door. Eren watched her go, a frown on his face and bad feeling in his gut.

He grabbed his phone, paused the music and sent a quick text to Mikasa, who had been waiting on a nearby rooftop with a scoped rifle. Just in case things had to become messy.

 _Meeting has concluded. No need for firing. -E_

 _What did she want? -M_

 _She's new in town. Looking for employment. -E_

 _And? -M_

 _I set up an interview. But I didn't tell her that we weren't looking for applications. -E_

 _Do you want me to terminate her application? -M_

Eren thought for a moment, weighing his options. Mikasa was by far the most skilled fighter in the 104th, she would snap that tiny punk's neck in seconds. But that seemed too cheap to him. No, Annie had stolen from _him_. Hurt a civilian that was under _his_ protection. He would have to take responsibility and be the one to kill her.

 _No. I'm the boss. I'll deal with her. -E_

* * *

 _ **Tuesday ?:?, February 28th… [REDACTED]**_

* * *

Levi dozed in his seat, legs crossed and eyes closed. For some reason, the best sleep he could ever have was in the belly of a helicopter that was on the way to a new hot zone. The steady whirl of the chopper's blades, to him, was nothing but a comfort.

"Levi?" Petra's voice sounded from his headset. He cracked open one steely gray eye to look at her. She sat next to him, her face covered in black and green paint and her honey-colored eyes filled to the brim with excitement.

"It couldn't have waited a few more minutes, Petra?" He grumbled, more out of habit than any genuine annoyance.

"Not at the speed we're flying at." She told him, then grabbed his elbow and started pulling him toward the heli's window.

 _How come I keep letting her get away with being so friendly with me? I'm her direct superior for fuck's sake._

Levi allowed the woman to drag him in front of the window. Petra pointed outside and gave Levi a huge smile, "See? Isn't it beautiful?"

He wrinkled his nose as he gazed outside, where the vast expense of the Amazon Rainforest stood in silence. Through the lush dark green foliage, one shining streak of water reflected the moonlight back at him. And just a few dozen meters away Bravo team's helicopter, codenamed Broadsword, shadowed them.

"I've never thought I'd ever see the Amazon River in my life." Petra whispered, a look of wonder on her face. "It's massive!"

"And full of leeches, mud, and lampreys." Levi replied, wincing slightly at the thought of the wriggling squirming bloodsuckers.

Petra shook her head in amusement, "Levi, don't you ever just look at something and enjoy the beauty of the thing?"

"Tch, of course I do." He replied, "I enjoy the sight of my room after I finish cleaning."

That earned a laugh from Petra, and Levi felt the corner of his lip twitch into a half-smile at the sound.

 _I mean... I suppose it's ok as along as I don't make a habit of it._

"Levi! Petra! We're forty five seconds from the landing zone. Orders?" Eld reported from his seat across the chopper.

Levi turned to his team, and barked out his commands, "Ready up and triple check your gear. Remember to watch each others backs and keep your eyes open out there. We are here for a reconnaissance mission, so we are not to openly engage the enemy unless strictly necessary."

He activated his radio and switched to Bravo's frequency, "Bravo team, this is Alfa team leader. We're disembarking and continuing southeast by boat. Your orders are to continue to your drop point and move northwest over land, infiltrate the target, then collect as much information as possible before pulling out. Understood?"

A crackle of static came through before Bravo team leader responded, "Understood, Alfa team leader. Breaking out of travel formation now."

Levi cut the connection and watched as Broadsword suddenly banked to the right and sped out of view. Their own chopper slowed to a stable hover, steadying itself for the commandos to disembark.

Ding!

"That was the green light. You guys are good to go!" The pilot's voice came over their radios.

As one Levi's squad pulled the Blackhawk helicopters doors open and hooked their wires to the winch. Levi glanced around him, impressed with pilot's skills. The helicopter was hovering only ten meters above the muddy churning waters of the Solimoes river, the rotors close enough to slice through the topmost leaves of the tree line.

Oluo rappelled down, grabbed onto of the CRRC* attached to the bottom of the chopper, and quickly activated the air compressor which inflated the raft.

"The Zodiac is good to go!" He reported, as the now-unhooked raft dropped into the water.

Before the raft could get blown too far away, the rest of Levi squad rappelled down and boarded it. Petra grabbed hold of the tiller arm and, in under a minute, the five commandos were speeding through the water.

Levi straddled the gunwale, his suppressed M4A1 assault rifle braced and ready to fire, as he activated his radio and gave his commands, "Longsword, link up with Broadsword and fly in a holding position until we contact you. Fly low and be ready to pick us up in hurry."

"Understood, Afla team leader."

Eld leaned over to Levi, talking louder to be heard over the sound of the raft's two-stroke engine, "Captain, permission to speak freely?"

Levi nodded.

"This whole op is premature. We barely know anything about what's going on. Troop numbers, disposition, levels of titan activity. We have none of that. I hate to say it but I think we're going in half-cocked."

"This is a reconnaissance mission. The whole point is to get that information." Levi deadpanned.

"Then why doesn't a recon team take point on this?" Eld asked, the moonlight sparkling off the beads of sweat on his furrowed brow.

Levi switched to his headset and broadcasted his words to the rest of Alfa team, "Blue one has raised a concern. I'm sure you've noticed that our briefing was sparse and that we're basically flying blind. Usually the boys and girls over in recon would be the ones out here getting soaked; but this ops a little different."

"How so, boss?" Oluo asked.

"Remember the target we extracted a month ago? Well turns out, the day before we caught him he oversaw a large wire transfer to a Brazilian bank account. After we completed his interrogation and did a little digging, we traced the owner of that account to _Villa de Maria_."

"Our target is on its outskirts." Petra added, as she deftly guided the boat in between narrow gaps in the tree roots, "It's the only village in a hundred miles that has a landing strip."

"That's right, red one." Levi commended her, glad to see that someone had done a little studying, "Command believes that the titans are trying to airlift something out of there, probably within a few days. There was no time for a scouting run, so they sent us instead. If we verify a titan presence, our orders are to pull out and let the choppers deal with them."

"What in hell could the titans be doing in the rainforest?" Oluo wondered, his Mk.14 marksman's rifle cradled protectively in his arms.

"Nothing good. Now cut the chatter, we're four hundred meters from the village." Levi ordered dryly.

Petra lowered the engine speed, bringing the noise down to a dull humming. Thankfully, the current was on their side this night, and she managed to expertly land their boat in a sheltered grotto.

Levi stepped off the CRRC and took cover behind a large tree, his team falling in on both sides of him. As a unit they moved unseen among the trees, their tiger stripe uniforms and face paint melding with the underbrush. The canopy completely stole any moonlight, the darkness felt hot and wet, a constant living presence that made Levi's skin crawl. Titans would flourish in such conditions.

After a few minutes of creeping through the jungle, Levi caught sight of a light silhouetted through the trees. He whispered into his headset, "Light, fifty meters north of my position. Move up as close as you can but stay in the treeline."

He snuck closer towards the light, his rifle at the ready.

"Boss, I got a visual on a man-made structure. Looks like a guard tower with a spotlight." Oluo's voice sounded in his ear. "One subject manning the spotlight, he's armed with an M16 and wearing fatigues and an orange beret."

Levi thought for a moment, pondering his next move. Titans weren't known for their fashion sense, in fact they lacked any kind uniformity at all. Maybe the brazilian sects were more organized? No, Levi had a feeling that they were dealing with a third party.

"Captain, I have discovered an open runoff pipe. We can use it to avoid the searchlight." Gunther reported, sounding almost pleased with himself.

"Everyone move to Blue Two's location. We're moving through the pipe."

Five minutes later, Levi was crawling through a cramped rusty pipe. With blue team ahead of him and red team behind him, it was starting to feel claustrophobic. With merciful swiftness the commandos found the exit and they realized that the pipe was longer than they originally thought, as the small airstrip was all around them.

They pulled themselves up and concealed themselves among the dozens of fuel barrels that surrounded them. To their left stood a large but corroded barracks, its windows broken and its walls covered in intricate graffiti murals. And directly behind them, across the earthen airstrip, six massive cargo containers stood in silence.

"Looks like that's what they're moving." Petra whispered, "This airstrip is big enough for a cargo chopper to land in."

"That's smart. The only flat land for miles around and they have full control of it." Eld replied, then frowned, "But who are they? I've never heard of titans wearing a uniform."

The sound of loud voices alerted them and they ducked out of sight just as the door to the barracks swung open. Two men stepped out, both of them clad in camouflaged fatigues and both wearing orange berets. One man laughed at a joke the other had told as he pulled out a pack of cigarettes and light one up, puffing away while conversing with his comrade.

Levi observed them closely, looking for any indicators of titan transformation but found none. These men were human, looks like his hunch had been right. But this was an information gathering mission so time was of the essence, and when the two men sat themselves down on a few barrels just meters away from him, he decided that he'd speed up the process.

He caught Gunther's attention then pointed to the men and made a throat slitting gesture. Gunther nodded and stowed his weapon, creeping up soundlessly on the men.

Levi did the same, staying in a low crouch, he slide through the shadows until he was behind one them, his knife held in a firm ice-pick grip. A moment later he shot up, wrapped his free hand over the startled man's mouth and forced his head back. His knife slide through the man's throat, the razor sharp edge slicing apart his arteries and windpipe. Levi struck again, this time stabbing the blade deep into his target's upper chest directly through the heart.

Two seconds was all it took for Levi to kill and pull his target behind the barrel, the man's dying breath escaping from his cut open throat. Levi watched as Gunther finished off his own opponent, the larger commando preferring to snap the target's neck.

"Search the bodies. Look for a phone or a shipping manifest." Levi told Gunther, then motioned the other two commandos to keep them covered during the search. He tore through the man's pockets, finding nothing but personal items and a handful of change. Something then did catch his attention and it was the metal pin in the man's beret. He pulled it out and examined it, his frown deepening in thought when he noticed tiny writing engraved into the brass pin.

"Blue one, how good is your Portuguese?" He asked, as he tossed the pin to Eld.

Eld deftly caught it, then gave it a closer look. "It says 'Segurança da paz de espírito'. Roughly translated, it says 'peace of mind security'."

"Found what looks like a shipping list." Gunther spoke up, a heavily creased piece of paper in his hands, "It's encoded, I can't make heads or tails out of it."

Levi snorted, "Mercenaries. That explains why the titans sent a payment here. They hired mercs to smuggle those cargo containers." He turned back to Gunther, "hand me the list, the lab rats will decode it when we get ba-."

CRACK-CRACK-CRACK!

A burst of rifle fire echoed through the airstrip, followed closely by the sound of shouting. More rifle fire followed, and the air was instantly filled with the sound of automatic fire.

A new voice sounded into their ears, "Alfa team this is Bravo team leader, we need back up immediately! We're pinned down at the northern end of the airstrip. Heavy enemy resistance!"

"Understood, Bravo team." Levi replied, "We will provide fire support from the barracks. Hold out until we get into position."

With a quick hand gesture, Levi ordered his team forward. Together the commandos stormed through the barracks, their suppressed weapons spitting death to all the groggy and clueless mercenaries who were awakened by the outside gunfire. In ten seconds the floor was littered with seven bodies, then ten, then sixteen. Blood, brains, and bits of fabric decorated the walls; the sound the spent brass rolling on the ceramic tiles concealed the soft footfalls of the commandos.

In thirty seconds the commandos cleared the entire building, and in forty seconds they set themselves up in vantage positions across the barracks second floor.

"Boss, I can't see Bravo team. It's too dark out there!" Oluo reported, his marksman's rifle braced against a window sill.

"Alfa team, equip thermal optics." Levi ordered, quickly pulling the goggle's headband on and activating them. A second later and the world became a deep shade of royal blue, and Levi noticed around a dozen rapidly moving, bright orange figures. He changed the radio to bravo's frequency, "Bravo team, keep your head down. Using thermal to locate targets."

Oluo's rifle fired, and one of the figures collapsed and lay unmoving in the middle of the airstrip. Petra was next, firing twice into one of the mercs shooting at bravo. Her rounds seemed on target as the man keeled over and bled into the hungry dirt.

The mercenaries most have realized that they were under attack from behind. A few of them turned and begun spraying automatic fire at the barracks, their bullets falling like rain against the uncaring walls of the barracks. Levi's squad responded with calmly with semi-automatic fire. What few mercs weren't put down by the commando's wickedly accurate rounds sprinted across the airstrip, desperate to find better cover. One of the mercs almost threw himself into the back of the only jeep, scrambling to the driver's seat and gunning it.

The jeep roared as it sped down the airstrip, its engine and tires glowing red hot to Levi's thermal imaging. The mercenary paid his dying comrades no heed as he drove over their shuddering bodies, too intent on escaping with his own life.

"I got him, boss." Oluo reported as he drew a bead on the escaping vehicle.

He fired four rounds and a quarter-second later, the driver slumped over the steering wheel and expired. His body slipped to the left and one of his mag pouches snagged on the wheel and the jeep, an ever loyal machine, followed the directions of its master even in his death.

The half ton jeep sped past the barracks and rammed into one of the cargo containers at full speed. The screech of crushed metal filled the air, making everybody jump in their boots. The commandos glanced at each other, momentarily startled as their current vantage points had no visual on the containers.

"Did that hit the barracks?" Eld asked, resuming his attack at the surviving mercs.

"Negative." Gunther replied, "We would have felt the impact."

Levi activated his radio once again, sending his bored voice to both Legion teams, "Bravo, now is a good time to engage. Alfa keep doing what you're doing." He stood up, reloaded his rifle, and walked to the other side of the barracks.

 _I might as well see what damage the jeep caused._

Petra noticed his sudden departure and stepped back behind cover, presumably to reload her M4, but instead jogged over to join Levi, "Captain, where are you going?" She asked, pulling up her thermal optics.

For moment he considered rebuking her for ignoring his orders, but seeing the concern and eagerness in her face he decided against it. If she wanted to help so be it. "I'm about to go see how big a mess our failed getaway driver made. Care to join me?"

Petra nodded and activated her radio to inform their team what they would be doing; something Levi should have done. Communication could make or break a team, and he should have known better then to just walk off.

The pair walked down the hallway, the muffled sound of gunshots still ringing from behind them. They reached the room with the best view of the containers.

Levi squinted, his mouth twisted in a confused frown, "What the hell…"

He reactivated his goggles and what he saw only deepened his confusion. The containers glowed bright yellow, and he could clearly see the light green where the ruined jeep smashed through the wall of one of the containers.

Bright white hot steam escaped from the rent hole, the hot air concealing the contents of metal crate from his eyes.

"Is that some kind of gas?" Petra asked, suddenly uneasy.

Levi shrugged, "Maybe, it doesn't seem explosi-"

A loud metallic tearing sound interrupted him. The jeep's wreckage jumped suddenly, before the vehicle was slowly pushed out of the hole by long white-hot fingers. Metal squealed and warped as the hands pulled the container apart, widening the gap.

A head appeared, then shoulders pushed through like a grotesque child hatching from a steel egg. Levi and Petra stood spellbound as the thing pushed itself to its full height, the thing stood an easy twelve meters tall and towered over the barracks. A wild mane of cable-thick hair hung limply from its skeletal face. For a quiet moment it just stood there, unmoving and uninterested.

Gunshots echoed from down the airstrip and the monster spasmed, tilting it's massive head to find the source of the sound. Levi could barely repress a shudder as he noticed steam leaking from its empty eye sockets.

Petra stood beside him, shaking. "Captain… What is…" She whispered, her words halting in her shock.

He didn't answer, too stunned to do anything but stare at the giant in front of him. Until it leaned forward and a roar erupted from its lipless mouth, low and overpowering like an amplified fog horn.

It burst into movement, striding much too quickly for a creature of its size, toward the direction of the remaining mercenaries.

"All Legion, all Legion, confirmed sighting of an A-class Titan! Repeat, confirmed sighting of an A-class Titan!" Levi called into his radio, desperately trying to warn his soldiers, "It's moving to engage the mercs, everyone cease fire and find some cover to hide behind. _Do not engage!_ Don't make any noise and stay out of the open!"

Bravo team leader's voice came over, shouting in alarm, "Where did that thing come from?! Alfa team, we are disengaging and retreating to the jungle!"

"SHIT!" Levi swore, "NO, stay in cover. It's blind! Repeat, the A-class is blind! It won't see you if you stay down!" He flipped the channel over, trying to contact the helicopters, "Longsword, Broadsword, we need close air support _now_. We have an A-class Titan on our hands!"

"Confirmed, Alfa leader. We are five minutes ETA." Longsword reported.

"That's too long, get here faster!"

Oluo's voice sounded over the mic, also yelling at the other team, "Goddamn it bravo, _STOP RUNNING_!"

"How is it moving so fast?! IT SHOULDN'T BE THAT FAS-" Bravo leader's voice cut off, loud snapping sounds resonating over the radio, as his screams drifted from the airstrip.

Levi swore again and kicked a nearby wall, frustration and horror burning in the back of his throat as the legionaries, commandos that he knew for years, were snatched from the ground and painfully consumed while he was just a few hundred meters away. His mind frantically searched for a solution, some deus ex machina to save them, but none of their weapons would be able to harm that monstrosity and their heli's were minutes away. There was nothing they could do, and his mind crumpled at the feeling of helplessness.

So he slumped against the wall, pulled his goggles up and focused on a single point in space, trying his hardest to ignore the cries for help echoing from the distance. Petra crouched nearby, her face in her hands, visibly flinching every time a voice was cut off.

 _Oh right, she hasn't seen an A-class before..._

The final cry faded away, the airstrip become ghostly silent. Levi hung his head and dismissively radioed their helicopters, "Longsword, this is Alfa team leader. Bravo team has been eliminated. We're in the two-story building approximately two hundred meters from the target. Pick us up after you're done."

"Boss?"

Levi looked up, his face once again back to it's normal expression. Oluo, Eld, and Gunther stood a few feet away from him. Bleakness residing on each one of the commando's faces, their weapons weighing heavy in their hands. Petra pushed herself to her feet, wiping her eyes with her sleeve as she did so. The four of them looked to their Captain for direction, waiting for an order.

"What do we do, Captain?" Eld asked him, his voice low.

"We stay put and stay quiet." Levi replied, "Longsword and Broadsword are inbound."

"What's it doing right now?" Petra whispered, "It hasn't come looking for us."

"It's too busy feeding." Gunther told her. Petra shuddered.

Silence took hold of the room, as if the sound of their bated breath and wildly beating hearts were already too loud. Each soldier fell back into their own thoughts. Seconds passed by at a crawl as they waited.

Finally Oluo whispered, "Do you think it's go-."

THUMP...THUMP...THUMP

The commandos froze, staring at the wide open window in front of them. The titan's face, with its eyeless and steam-filled sockets, appeared before them, its towering body leaning in closer.

 _When did it..._

The thought broke through Levi's mind, too shocked to run.

It knew there was prey inside, that much was certain. It opened its maw, the pungent metallic odor of blood wafted from deep within its belly. Levi shuddered when he noticed a gloved hand stuck between it's crooked teeth.

The titan's head smashed into the wall, crashing through the metal and wood, mindlessly hunting for food. It forced its head forward, jaws snapping at Levi. Before he could order a retreat, one groping hand punched though the adjoining wall, its greedy fingers filling the doorway

"It's blocked the exit!" Gunther shouted.

"Backs against the wall, stay as far away from it as you can!" Levi ordered.

The five of them ran to the opposite wall, quite literally throwing their backs against the crumbling wood. They had gained a few meters of space, but the eyeless titan had no concept of pain and felt nothing as it buried itself further into the barracks, a single goal in its head.

From simple muscle memory, the squad simultaneously raised their rifles, and hard pressed the trigger.

But the titan didn't care. Even as a hail storm of hot lead sheared its skin from bone, it did not slow. Even as the enamel of its teeth shattered and ripped through the back of its throat, it did not flinch. Steam leaked from each wound, filling the room. The titan had become a death's head, surrounded by weeping fog and rancid corpse-stench. Their weapons clicked empty, and Levi unthinkingly drew his sidearm. He wasn't sure what he could do it, but a death by gunshot seemed better than being eaten alive.

"Alfa team we have a visual of the target. Proceeding to engage." Longsword reported, breaking Levi out of his trance.

The steady beat of blades stole the attention of every living thing. The commandos glanced at each hopefully. The titan halted in its attack, seemingly listening to the helicopter. A burst of machine gun fire from one of the side-mounted M249 machine gun definitely got its attention, one of the rounds must have nicked it's nape. It pulled its head out of the building and charged towards the source of the threat.

Alfa squad stood together and watched as both Blackhawk helicopters circled the titan, their GAU-19 miniguns roaring as a stream of .50 BMG rounds ripped the malnourished freak apart. The monstrosity violently swiped at the choppers, continuing to attack even when it's limbs were shredded and its body turned to steaming mush by snapping it's over-sized jaws hungrily at them. One of the choppers stopped in its flight pattern and launched a single rocket, which burst in mid-air to shower the twitching titan with white phosphorus, burning the piles of hateful flesh to nothing.

"PT-1* has been eliminated, moving to exfil point." Came the broadcast from Longsword. The chopper was flew over their position, it's blades sending a current of air that made the commandos shield their eyes as it circled around the barracks. Not wasting any time, Levi's squad ran up the stairs and pulled themselves unto the roof, waving to catch the pilot's attention. The pilot brought the 16,000 pound helicopter to a hover a few feet from the crumbling barracks roof.

The co-pilot pulled open the chopper door and Levi's squad quickly embarked onto their ride. Levi sat himself down on the edge of the hull, his legs dangling in the air as he faced outward. He clipped the safety clip to his belt and grabbed hold of the side-mounted machine gun, bringing the weapon to the ready in case the life decided to throw something else at them.

The helicopter pulled up and rapidly accelerated into the sky but Levi was still able to catch a glimpse of the damage the titan had wrought. The dirt stained with puddles of dark reflective blood, the only thing left of Bravo team. The shipping manifest suddenly felt heavy in his pocket at the thought.

Behind them, Broadsword strafed the area. Bathing the buildings and the containers with its miniguns before immolating the entire airstrip with white phosphorus, turning the night bright with white flames that matched the titans in their hunger. In the morning, the airstrip would be nothing but burned patch of jungle.

No bodies would be found, and for selfish reasons, Levi was grateful for that fact.

* * *

 _ **Tuesday 09:00, February 28th… Wings of Freedom Bar & Tavern, The Bronx**_

* * *

"Oi, Blondie. Wake up."

Armin was rudely jolted awake, his peaceful dreams evaporating. He sat up, rubbing his eye with one hand, his body protesting vigorously as the warm sheets fell away from his torso.

Ymir dropped a power bar in his lap before snorting humorously at his annoyed expression, "We don't have time for breakfast today, Blondie. So you're gonna be eating on the go."

"Where are we going?"

She snickered, "Nowhere, brainiac. Today's the day you start earning your keep."

He gave her a skeptical look, "Ok... but in case you haven't noticed, I don't have any experience with fighting. So I doubt I'd be any good at beating up rival thugs."

"No shit. You'd be beaten so bad that Marco would have to use super glue to put your bones back together." She laughed disparagingly at him, then lazily meandered out of the room, "Get ready and meet me at the bar, shrimp."

Armin waited until Ymir left his room before stiffly getting out of bed, stretching as he did so. He quickly dressed in a pair of casual jeans and a dark red t-shirt, both donated to him by Connie who was the only male that was shorter than him. He grabbed his old boots, the power-bar, and his toiletries before making his way to restrooms.

The Wings of Freedom, as far as he knew, had two bathrooms. The first, a unisex restroom that was available for members and guests, and the second was Krista's private bathroom which was connected to her bedroom. In the month that it took Armin's ribs to heal, he had only seen the public one. It wasn't exactly luxurious but it had everything needed to stay hygienic, including showers; which was nice in his opinion.

He was in the middle of brushing his teeth when Mikasa walked through the door and strode over to him.

Armin smiled at his foster sister, the toothbrush still in his mouth, "Good morning, Mikasa!"

She smiled back in return, a subtle shift of her lips that most would miss, "Morning, Armin." She said, shifting her attention to his torso, "How are your ribs?"

"Still a bit sore, but otherwise I feel fine." He replied, turning back to finish his morning routine, "I'm just happy that I didn't get any permanent scars from the road rash."

"Me too. Are you ready for today?"

He rinsed out his mouth and spat the water into the sink before answering, "I'll do my best but you know I never was any good at fighting, Mikasa."

That was putting it lightly. Armin had probably thrown a grand total of two punches in his life and the idea of fighting honestly terrified him. Much to his own embarrassment, he had to depend on those who were stronger than him for protection throughout his life. For years Mikasa and Eren had been his watchful guardians, back when the worst the world had to offer were bullies and stray dogs, safeguarding him until they parted ways after high school.

He winced visibly, thinking back to all the times they had kept him safe while he just leeched off their friendship. He tried to make it up to them, he tutored Eren when he fell behind in his schoolwork and he comforted Mikasa whenever she begun feeling overwhelmed and lonely. But really that wasn't much to show for their generosity.

 _I've been a burden on them for years, so I can't let them down now. I gotta learn how to help as best I-_

Mikasa interrupted his thoughts, "You won't need to, you'll be working with Ymir."

"Isn't Ymir one of your...um?" He gestured vaguely, searching for the correct word.

"Enforcers?" Mikasa shook her head, as she turned to leave, "She's too self-serving to be trusted in a combat role. Ymir's in charge of our library."

"She doesn't look much like a librarian." Armin muttered, pulling on his old ratty boots and following Mikasa out of the restroom.

Mikasa smiled lightly at his attempt at humor, "Our library is bit different. She checks out guns, not books. And she needs an assistant." She shot a sideways glance at him, "One with attention to details and a head for numbers. I'm sure you can manage."

The bar was almost empty when the duo entered. Krista hadn't opened the tavern yet, and currently Ymir was the only person sitting nonchalantly at the worn wooden bar. She waved them over, looking eager to start.

"Morning, Lieutenant." She gave Mikasa a purposely clumsily salute, a wide grin appearing on her face when Mikasa almost corrected her form out of habit.

"Everything ready for tonight?" Mikasa asked, once again the very image of emotionless efficiency.

"Pretty much. I'll finish up after getting Blondie up to speed." Ymir wrapped her arm around Armin's shoulders and roughly pulled him along as she made her way outside, "See you later tonight!"

Armin waved goodbye just as she dragged him out of the building, then almost tripped down the stairs when Ymir suddenly shoved him forward. He managed to regain his balance, wincing slightly as his sore ribs complained from the sudden movement. He sent an indignant look at the brown-haired woman, whose only response was to shrug nonchalantly.

The air was cool this morning, the winter chill hadn't fully dissipated yet. Clouds obscured the sun, casting the surrounding buildings in grey shade. Outside the cloth-covered chain link fence that marked the Freedom's borders, lethargic cars and stooped men passed by, their eyes downcast and barely focusing on the road ahead. The atmosphere on the streets was a far cry from the warm mood inside the tavern.

Two men stood in the fenced-in parking lot, one leaning on the hood of a bright orange sports car. Armin recognized the other man as Marco, his freckles visible even from a distance. He liked Marco, the young doctor had shown himself to be a kind and intelligent friend. The two of them had often held hour long conversations and friendly debates while Armin's ribs slowly healed.

"Good morning, Marco!" Armin called out, trotting over to the pair. Ymir following behind him at slower pace.

Marco's face burst into a grin, "Good morning, Armin! How are you feeling today?"

"Relatively Ok, considering." He replied, then looked over at the man with the sports car, "I don't think we've met, I'm Armin."

The man straightened himself to his full height, standing a good few inches taller than Armin, and gave him subtle smile. His two-toned hair and well-dressed appearance reminded Armin a highwayman character from a book he had read. A roguish dandy whose tongue was as sharp and as quick as his knife.

"A pleasure!" He said, "I was wondering when I'd get the chance to meet our newest member. I hear that you'll be working with our friend Ymir in the library."

He shot a glance towards the scowling Ymir, "Hopefully a temporary arrangement honestly; you strike me as someone who would excel in my line of work."

"Ah! I almost forgot!" He offered his hand in greeting, "My name is Jean Kirschtein. Singer, painter, con-artist."

"You forgot 'pompous asshole'." Ymir added snidely.

Marco snorted, covering his mouth with his hand to hide his amusement. Armin, managing to catch the laughter before it escaped, accepted the handshake with smile.

"Nice to meet you too, Jean." He answered, before his curiosity got the better of him, "Please don't take this the wrong way, but why does the 104th need a con-artist?"

"Networking, what else?" The roguish man declared, "These city lights attract all kinds of people, each one of them searching for that little something or someone they need to be happy. I supply that something and in return they give me their secrets, their friends, and their wallets. A lonely business woman sitting alone during a show might be friends with a judge, and when I'm done with her, I will be too."

"He's also responsible for rooting out any rumors about our rivals." Marco added, looking a little off put by Jean's speech, "Without his tips, we wouldn't have a clue about what happens outside our territory."

Armin processed the information rapidly, impressed that Eren and Mikasa had put together such an effective group. "So you don'-."

Ymir broke in, grabbing Armin's arm again, "You can blow smoke up Jean's ass later, shrimp. We got guns to clean and bullets to count. And I don't wanna spend my whole day stuck in the safehouse."

"See you guys later!" Armin called over his shoulder, apologetically smiling at the men as he was lead away.

Two minutes later Armin sat on a small stool in the _Freedom's_ basement. The underground section was hidden away behind a trap door located in the garage. A third bathroom stood to his left and on his right a small sleeping area had been excavated, complete with bunk beds and a crate of MRE's.

Ymir sat next him, teaching him how to field strip a Glock 9mm handgun, her tone losing its constant sarcastic rattle as she demonstrated how to make sure the weapon was safe before disassembling it. Armin watched hungrily, a familiar sense joy blooming in his chest at the chance to learn something new.

For once in his life, he had been in the right place in the right time when that car had struck him. True it had nearly killed him, but he had reunited with his two foster siblings and now he was part of something greater than himself. He had a purpose now, a goal to work towards. The 104th had accepted him with open arms and offered him a new life. He would never be able to repay that debt, but he would give his final breath trying to.

He was going to bring something to this table. He was going to be _useful._

* * *

 **Revised on 3/26/2018**

 **LEO*- Law Enforcement Officer.**

 **Laser Microphone*- A surveillance device that uses a laser beam to detect sound vibrations in a distant object. It can be used to eavesdrop with minimal chance of exposure.**

 **Bid*- Slang term meaning prison sentence, also called a 'bit'.**

 **CRRC*- Combat Rubber Raiding Craft, an inflatable rubber boat often used by U.S. Navy SEALs for over-the-horizon infiltration.**

 **PT-1*- Priority Target 1**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Attack on Titan or it's characters. I also do not own anything in New York City.**

 **I'm back from dead with a new pair of eyes in my head! Hello again, dear readers. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, for it was rewritten more than a few times. Sorry once again about the delay in uploads but work and surgery has been eating up my free time. The next chapter might take a little longer as I will dedicate a good chunk of my free time to voice lessons, as I am trying to become a full-time voice actor. Long way from that goal but whatever, at least this fic isn't going anywhere. Again I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and please leave a review if feel inclined, it's always great fun to see feedback. Also I want to shout-out one of my best friends for helping me edit this thing. The guy has a way with words that makes me a little jealous.**

 **P.S. I'm thinking about commissioning a new cover image for this fic, if anyone is willing to offer their artistic talents please send me a PM.**

 **bubble . duckie: Glad you are enjoying the fic! I tried to fit the characters into roles without making them to OOC. This definitely won't be a regular hero/heroine story, I'm getting alot of my influences from crime dramas, cop shows, and my own experiences. Also here's some more Annie and Armin for you! I think you'll be presently surprised about the titans origins and their purpose.**

 **scrum: Here's the update, glad you're enjoying the fic!**


	6. Meetings in Bright Places

_**Tuesday 12:00, February 28th… Police Station, The Bronx**_

* * *

Hitch absently fiddled with her phone, bored from waiting for her name to be called. She shifted in her seat, glancing up at the psychiatrist's door for what she thought was the fiftieth time in an hour.

'Dr. Joyner has her hands full today,' She thought, as she heard the muffled sound of yelling from inside her workspace. It looked like the officer that went in before had failed to be cleared for duty, and begun to get emotional.

The officer stormed out of the room, his face beet red. He glared at Hitch for a second then marched down the hall.

"Next!" The shrink yelled from inside the office. Hitch walked inside and took a seat in front of Dr. Joyner's desk. She dropped her phone into her purse and made herself comfortable in the stuffy room.

"Hello again, Hitch. Thank you for coming by." Joyner, stick thin and tight faced, greeted her with a tired smile, "You're on time, I'm impressed." Her lips had a tendency to slide up her teeth when she smiled, a fact that reminded Hitch faintly of reptiles.

Hitch shrugged dismissively, "I knew you'd just keep calling me until I came in, and honestly, I couldn't afford the phone bill. By the way, I have to be somewhere in a little bit so I was hoping that we could hurry this whole thing along."

The doctor frowned, "Hitch, this could take a while; your emotional health is nothing to mess around with. I need to make sure you're Ok before I clear you for duty, and I can't do that if you keep leaving early every session."

"I'm fine, doc. You've seen me every week for the past month." Hitch sighed, one of her feet tapping on the carpeted floor impatiently, "You know I'm ready to get back to work."

"Hitch, your sergeant dropped you on administrative leave for a reason…"

"He dropped me on leave because I left the scene of a crime without calling for an officer to secure it, and I ditched my post for like three hours without reporting in." Hitch said, leaning heavily on her elbow, "I didn't follow protocol and got shafted for it, end of story."

Dr. Joyner looked at her skeptically, not convinced in the slightest. "What about the eyewitness report that you filed? Do you think that had anything to do with it? I personally found it more than a little concerning."

"I didn't imagine any of it, if that's what you're implying." Hitch snapped, her tone of voice high and slightly whiny.

"I didn't mean it that way, excuse me if it came off that way." Joyner added apologetically, "I was bringing attention to what you had wrote and how-."

"How much it sounds like bullshit?" Hitch cut in, little flickers of anger sparking in her demeanor, "An eight foot tall, naked freak that chows down on hobos and likes to fling cops into cars? I get it, it sounds insane. Everyone in the precinct does not believe it and obviously you don't either."

She was _so_ sick of the pitying glances and hushed whispers that followed her everywhere inside the station. It seemed that everyone's opinion of her had changed overnight. Her fellow officers no longer joked around or shared stories with her, almost as if one wrong word would shatter her like a fragile porcelain doll. Everyone was worried about her, and she had even overheard some of her friends talking about confiscating her carry pistol just in case she attempted to kill herself. As if she'd ever let either of those two things happen.

But in the first time in a long while, she felt like she was… alone.

Dr. Joyner sighed and glanced out the window for a moment, her brow furrowed in thought, "I want to tell you that it doesn't sound crazy, Hitch. But the crime scene evidence doesn't back your report. We only found three bodies, and no trace of the suspect you described."

"So I threw myself into my own car?" She scoffed, her tone seething with bitterness and sarcasm, "Did those bodies just eat themselves? Oh, and did Marlo just break his own head open then?!"

"I never said that." The doctor replied quietly.

Hitch's anger disappeared as quickly as it came, the mention of her former partner casting a deep melancholic silence over the two women. Hitch wanted nothing more than to leave the office and get on with her day, so much so that she was about to lie straight to the doctor's face and tell her that she wasn't feeling well and needed to go home. This sessions were a waste of time in her opinion, so she might as well go home anyway.

"I think, that we can end this session here." Dr. Joyner informed her, standing from her seat, "Next week I'd like to go over your account of the situation, in greater detail, if you're able."

Hitch nodded, pushed herself to her feet and scooped up her purse. She said her goodbyes before walking out of the office. She made her way out of the police station, ignoring the few polite greetings that were offered. And as much as she hated to, she couldn't help but hear the conversations that followed her out into the crisp air.

"You think she's Ok?"

"Fuck no, I know that look. She won't get better until Freudenberg gets out of the 'vegetable patch'…"

"What if he doesn't?"

"Then we'll pour out a drink for both of them, not much else we can do."

She wanted a cigarette, or rather she needed a cigarette. She dug her hands into her purse until she found her lighter. She flicked the scratched metal cover open and rapidly lit up her cigarette, the nicotine rush calmed her and sent a small tingle up her spine as she walked down the empty street. Hitch couldn't remember how much time she spent trying to drop her smoking habit, going as far as keeping nicotine patches in her uniform in case she felt the stress getting to her. The last month had been a disaster on that front. Now she was up to half a pack a day, the most she had ever smoked since her highschool days.

Her destination stood in front of her, Washington memorial hospital. She tossed the cigarette butt away and stepped through the sliding doors, shivering as the frigid air hit her full force.

'Damn, I keep forgetting to bring a jacket.' She berated herself, hugging herself and rubbing her arms to try and warm up. Normally, New York City was already covered in snow by late January but this year the temperature never dropped past 'chilly'.

"You're here early again, hun."

Hitch turned to face Nurse Johnson, the same nurse who had helped her when she first came here. Nurse Johnson, or Lia as she insisted Hitch call her, sat behind the admissions counter with a knowing look on her face. "They run you out of the station again?"

"I threw myself out this time; they got you working the desk again today, huh?" Hitch replied, her voice dry but full of teasing.

Lia's wrinkled face became exasperated as she gestured to the mound of paperwork surrounding her, "Third shift in a row! And they know I'm no good with computers', but here I am."

"Desk work is better than cleaning up after the patients though isn't it?"

The rotund old nurse shook her head, "Would you like it if your boss always puts you on desk duty?"

Hitch shrugged, "It wouldn't be that bad, I'd get to hang out with the lab rats for a bit. They got pizza and movies down there."

Lia sighed heavily, "You can head on up, hun."

Hitch thanked her and continued on deeper into the hospital, her steps slow and her heart sinking like lead. No matter how many times she walked these halls, she would never stop feeling that stab of fear and apprehension that bloomed inside her stomach.

She pushed open the door to the long-term care ward and made a bee-line for the room she visited every other day.

Inside Marlo lay motionless on the bed, his eyes closed and an oxygen mask resting over his mouth and nose. An IV drip hung lifelessly from his vein while the heartbeat monitor beeped away at its steady pace, just barely audible over the air conditioner. No changes there.

But she wasn't expecting to see another person in the room with him. The stranger stood at the foot of Marlo's bed, a clipboard in his hands. He wore a closely-fitted, button-down shirt and a pair of expensive jeans; and along with his fashionably cut ash-brown hair, he looked like someone who just walked off a high-class modeling set. And right into Marlo's room. How suspicious.

"Don't move!" Hitch snapped at him, she closed the distance in a flash, grabbed the taller man by his collar, and roughly jerked him backwards.

"Aie!" The stranger yelped, trying to find his balance as the angry police officer behind him pulled him to the floor. The clipboard rattled as it bounced off the floor, forgotten as Hitch pushed the stranger onto his stomach and pinned the his arms behind his back. Her knee buried into the man's spine, she held his hands in place with one hand while the other pushed the interlopers head against the floor tiles.

"Who are you and what are doing here?!" Hitch demanded, anger radiating off her body in waves. Her normally dismissive and carefree demeanor nowhere to be found. The stress had shortened her fuse drastically this past month.

"Woah, woah, woah there." The man calmly replied, recovering from the sudden attack rather well, "Let's calm down a little bit, Ok? No need to get violent with each other. Let's talk this out."

He twisted his head to make eye contact with her from the corner of his bright brown eye, a disarming smile perched on his lips, "My name's Jean. Nice to meet you miss…?"

"Officer Dreyse." Hitch stated, not bothering to remove her knee form his back, "What are you doing in here, Jean?"

"Well, I _was_ planning on interviewing him, but it seems that my source left out a few details about his condition." Jean answered her coolly, somehow managing to shrug in his position.

Confusion spread across Hitch's face, "Interviewing him about what?" She asked.

"I wanted ask him some questions about the triple homicide that went down last month." Jean became thoughtful for a moment before asking, "I work for an independent news site; I thought his story could be important."

 _Fucking journalist vultures._

Hitch let go of his hands and rose from her crouched position, taking an extra step back for good measure. "How did you get in here? Visitation is for family and friends only."

Jean pushed himself to his feet, casually smoothing out his shirt as he did so, "I've got a lot of friends here, so I get a little more leeway than most people."

"You do realize that snooping around and reading someone's private medical records is a crime, right?" Hitch drawled, her hands on her hips. If she hadn't been dumped onto paid leave she would have dragged the man out in handcuffs by now.

"It's only a small crime." Jean dismissed the accusation with a wave.

Suddenly his smile widened as an idea popped into his head. "Say, you wouldn't happen to be his partner now, would you?"

"Yes I'm his partner." She sighed, quickly tiring of the conversation, "Now please get out before I kick you out."

"Then you must have been with him when he was injured." Jean took a step forward, ignoring her warning completely. "You had to have seen whoever did this."

Hitch's glare turned flinty when he said this, broadcasting her impatience and anger to the man. "I already warned you once, now beat it." She growled.

Jean raised his eyebrow, "My apologies. Let me rephrase my question. You must have seen _what_ did this to your partner."

Hitch's anger wavered at the man's emphasis

 _Does he know? How? I'm the only witness and no one at the station believes me…_

Jean's smile had disappeared, replaced with a look of stony seriousness. He held up his hand, palm to the ground, in a motion used to portray height. "Roughly ten feet tall, long hair, unbelievably ugly. Ringing any bells?"

Hitch gaped at him, her mouth slack in stunned surprise. "How do you know that?" She half-whispered.

"A friend of my mine saw the whole thing go down." Jean informed her. "She let me know the next day. It's… kind of my job to keep track of attacks like these. That's why I'm here."

He shifted his posture, leaning into Hitch's personal space, "I need the full story. What did you see out there, Officer?"

Hitch glanced to the side, her eyes tearing slightly at the sight of Marlo lying unmoving and hooked up to machines. Someone, no some _thing_ had done this to him, had torn apart three men, and then almost killed her. The detectives had only found eaten bodies, with no sign of the horror itself. It could be anywhere for all she knew, it could hurt more innocents if it wasn't found.

 _My boss would probably burst a blood vessel if he found out that I was talking with a journalist about the encounter, I'll lose my job for sure. Though on the other hand I might have kissed my career goodbye when I turned in my witness statement._

"It needs to be stopped officer, and I can't do it alone. I need you help in this fight." Jean pleaded, "Please, tell me what happened."

"We...we got a call to investigate a suspicious persons report." She started slowly, "I remember thinking it was weird because the address dispatch gave us was for an abandoned lot."

"We got there and found blood stains on the ground, I guess those stuck around because the overpass protected them from the rain." She wrapped her arms around herself, shuddering at the next memory, "One of the vagrants tried to escape through a hole in the fence. He was wounded and covered in blood. We should have helped but our first reaction was to get away from him…" She trailed off, her shoulders hunched in shame. "He didn't make it."

Jean, noticing her discomfort, laid a sympathetic hand on her shoulder. Hitch glanced at the taller man, a question in her eyes. He simply responded in a genuine but even tone, "You did what any normal person would do in that situation, nobody would have been prepared for something like that. Most people would have been sprinting the opposite direction. What happened after that?"

"We tried to make it back to our car, we could hear that thing… eating. But I got spooked by some lightning and attracted its attention." Hitch quivered, "It...it was horrible. I don't know how it could hear us over the sound it made, but it did."

"Sound? What do you mean?" Jean interrupted her, a confused look on his face. "Did it talk or…?"

Hitch shook her head, "No, it _hummed,_ if you can believe that. Even after I started shooting at it, it just hummed louder before charging at us."

"It just charged at you? It didn't try to take cover or circle around you at all?"

"No, it just came at us head on. It attacked Marlo first-"

"Even when you were the one who shot it?"

Now she turned to give Jean an appraising look, shrugging his hand off her shoulder, "What are getting at? You sound as if you've heard of this thing before."

Jean chewed on his lip slightly, obviously debating whether or not to share with her. After a brief moment of pondering he mouthed 'fuck it' and said, "Some associates of mine have also encountered monsters like yours. That's one of the reasons I'm here actually."

"So you're not a journalist. You dropped that cover real quick, Jean." Despite her confrontational words, Hitch kept her voice level, too concerned about the idea of the attack being more than just an isolated incident. "How about you tell me why exactly you came here. Now."

"I'm trying to find the rest of them. Some of my associates have a vested interest in eliminating these freaks." He paused for a moment, before adding, "They're called 'Titans' by the way."

"They...they have a name?" Shock bled into her voice, the idea of her monster being just one of many shook her to the core. "How long have they been...um...around?"

Jean shrugged, seemingly at a lose. "Probably decades. Nobody really knows where they're coming from."

"And your associates. They're trying to kill these titans?" Hitch demanded, "How? Do you guys just search around till you find one or what?"

"Don't take this the wrong way, but your profession makes it more than a little risky for me to reveal our methods." Jean's face erupted into a grin, an idea appearing in his head, "Unless…"

He brought his hand to his chin, his grin radiating light like sunshine off fresh snow but twice as smug, "Officer Dreyse, how would you feel about taking a stand against the Titans?"

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Hitch demanded, her impatience once again rising to the surface.

"My associates and I, we hunt titans. And as you can probably guess, the end result is often messy." Jean mimed a gunshot to the head action, the grin never leaving his face, "And your colleagues have a reputation for being rather thorough in their investigation. You can see how that might be a problem for us."

"I can see where you're going with this." Hitch told him, scoffing at the man's offer, "I'm not a dirty cop, and I think it's time for you to lea-"

"I'm not asking you to be a dirty cop." Jean interrupted her, "Dirty cops are in it for the money. You'd be doing it to help keep New York safe. That's a big difference, at least in my book. Think about what could happen if these things aren't stopped. How many people could get hurt or die at the hands of the titans."

"You're asking me to do what exactly? Forge police reports? Make evidence disappear?" Hitch's words wavered in their conviction, she hated the idea of working with criminals but it wasn't like the police were gonna deal with the titans.

 _Not when nobody but me believes in them... But do I really want to get in bed with these guys? What else could they be responsible for?_

"I'm offering you a partnership, my associates will wipe out any titans that we find and in return you can help keep them out of prison. Everybody benefits."

Just as Hitch was about to refuse, Jean reached into his pocket and withdrew two Polaroid photos.

He handed them to her, and Hitch felt more baffled by the second. The first photo captured two men standing together. The older man- probably the father or older brother, Hitch guessed- had his arm around the younger man's shoulders and a radiant smile was beaming from both of their faces. The young man held a large Whitefish by it's mouth and was proudly showing off his catch to whomever was taking the picture. Underneath the picture the words "Ben's first catch!" were written in loopy hand writing. The second photo was of a man dressed in a U.S. air force dress uniform, his head held high and a look of fierce pride etched on his features.

"Who are these people?" Hitch asked, "Why are you showing me these?"

Jean reached out and tapped the first photo lightly, "Ben and Hugh Russo. Hugh's wife, Janet, is the one taking the picture. They were a happy family until the recession, but you might know them better as two of the victims of the titan that attacked you."

The room suddenly became dead silent, only the soft beeping of the heart monitor softly breaking the silence every so often.

Hitch's eyes watered, the smiling faces a stark contrast to the horrific crime scene photos.

She held out the second picture, her hand shaking slightly, "Is that the third victim?" She haltingly asked him, she didn't know why she bothered asking Jean, she already knew the answer.

"Technical Sergeant Kevin Goldstein." Jean replied, "Honorably discharged in nineteen-seventy four. He didn't get the help he needed when he got back, PTSD if I remember correctly. All I know is that he disappeared from his house two years later… His daughter claimed the remains yesterday."

Hitch tired to give the photos back to Jean, wiping away the tears that threatened to escape from beneath her long lashes.

Jean gently pushed them back to her, a look of dead seriousness in his light-brown eyes. "There's more victims out there, Officer. The bodies keep piling up when the cops aren't looking. Criminal or innocent, the titans don't care. The only way to stop these attacks is to strike first, take our torches to them and kill them before they have a chance to tear apart more of us. You saw what damage one of them can do, now imagine dozens of those things, skulking in the alleys of New York. They need to be stopped before that happens. And you can help us do that."

He handed a slip of paper with a phone number written in cursive handwriting. "I should go, before I completely take up your visitation time. Call me when you feel like making a _real_ difference."

Jean inclined his head respectfully to her before turning and walking out of Marlo's room. Hitch didn't see him leave, her eyes glued to the faces of those who weren't as lucky as she had been.

She carefully placed them inside her purse, glanced at Jean's phone number and sighed deeply. She would think about his offer but right now she wasn't ready to do anything crazy, the conversation had sucked the last of her emotional strength away. She collapsed heavily on the chair next to Marlo.

"Hey there, Marley…" Hitch spoke softly. "It's me again. I hope you didn't catch any of that."

If he had he gave no indication of it.

"You must be getting real tired of me by now, huh?" She leaned onto the bed, resting her head in her arms, letting a sigh escape from her lips. She blinked slowly and let some of her former sauciness paint her voice. "Or maybe you're secretly enjoying having me play nurse for you… That would be quite a trick, fake a coma to play the sympathy card, maybe catch up on some naps while you're at it."

She chuckled darkly at the thought, half smiling at her friend. "Hell, half of me still thinks that this all just a way for you to get back at me for the nonstop teasing I give you. But the other half of me knows that you'd never do something that cruel to me..."

The silence of room sucked the smile of her lips, her amber eyes shining with unshed tears, "I'd forgive you if you did, by the way. So if you're faking, please just wake up." She whispered, her voice wavering.

He gave no answer, lying motionless under snow white sheets.

* * *

 _ **Tuesday ?:?, February 28th…[REDACTED]**_

* * *

Levi shivered, his eyes tightly shut as he gulped down shot after shot of vodka. The clear drink burned its way down his throat, but it had no effect on the sounds that haunted him. Sounds of crunching bone and screaming mouths. He had lost comrades before, hell, he had lead dozens of soldiers to their deaths during his long and bloody career.

No matter what uniform he wore, what weapon he held, or what language escaped his tongue; the dead would follow behind him. An unavoidable, constant march of dead men and women. Staring at him with vacant eyes, some with smiles and others with snarls. He could feel the weight of the dead on his shoulders, and if he drank just enough liquor, sometimes he could even see them.

"Captain Levi."

Levi glanced up, his vision blurry as he made out the features of the man standing before him.

"Hello Legate." He grumbled, turning back to his drink, "Excuse me if I don't salute. The shrink gave me a signed 'politely fuck off, sir' note to show you."

"You should laminate it then." Mike leaned heavily on the table, his nose wrinkling at the unpleasant of strong booze, "How did it go?"

"I walked in, sat in a shitty chair, answered some questions and left." He took another shot, "They know better than to try and pull me off work."

"I suppose they do." The taller man agreed, "Erwin wants to speak with you, Levi. He just finished debriefing your squad."

"Fine." He stood from the table, taking one last shot just for luck, then followed Mike out of the room. Even with almost half a bottle of vodka in his system, his steps were sure and confident. The man's tolerance for alcohol was only matched by one other person in the Legion.

After a short walk from the common room to Erwin's office; the two men stood in front of Erwin's desk, which was currently unoccupied. The centurion had stepped out for a moment.

Levi made a sound of distaste, "I can see how badly he wants to speak with me, Mike. Never before have I felt such a warm welcome."

"He went to check on your team, he should be back any moment now." Mike snorted lightly, "I guess your patience is shorter than you are."

Levi glared at the Legate, his eyes narrowing dangerously, "I'm only going to warn you once, Mike. Make another crack about my height and I'll strangle you."

Mike snorted, louder this time, "You'll need a step ladder to reach my neck, Levi."

Levi's retort was cut off as the office door was pushed open and Erwin Smith, looking professional as always in his suit, strode inside. Levi and Mike snapped into a salute, though Levi's was much lazier, for the returning Centurion.

"Relax gentlemen, now is not the time for formalities." Erwin stated, carefully seating himself into the leather seat behind his desk. "What happened this morning was a tragedy on multiple fronts. Finding an A-class so close to humans… Nobody could have predicted such a thing. How are you holding up, Levi?"

"Give me a day to drink and another mission to complete, and I'll be fine." Levi deadpanned, his face an unmoving mask of impatience.

"Fair enough." Erwin nodded, "Your team expressed similar sentiments when I debriefed them, it seems all of you are champing at the bit to make the titans pay."

"My squad mates are professionals, Erwin." Levi reminded him matter-of-factly, putting more confidence into his words than he actually felt, "It'll take more than some shit-eating giants to throw us off our game."

"Good. Because we're hard at work tracking a new target for you." The centurion waved his hand toward Mike, urging him to take over. "Fill us in on what you found so far, Legate."

Mike waved Levi closer to the desk, where a crisp map of the western hemisphere lay waiting for them. He pointed to the Amazon rainforest roughly where the airstrip had been located. "My team was able to decipher the manifest you recovered from the mercs. It appears that the Titans were trying to smuggle those A-classes into the US."

He traced his finger across the plastic, demonstrating each route the caged titans were to be taken on. "The Mercenaries you encountered would have airlifted them to the largest seaport in Brazil before shipping them over the Atlantic ocean on a civilian cargo ship. Final destination…" Mike's finger fell over New York City, "Lower Manhattan, population sixty-one thousand, each one of them would have been in the line of fire if we hadn't destroyed that shipment."

"You believe that the Titans were planning on releasing A-classes into the city?" Erwin asked, leaning back heavily in his chair and crossing his hands in front of him.

"And why the fuck would they want to do that?" Levi demanded, "All that's going to do is make it impossible to cover up their existence! They would be showing their hand for no real gain."

A look of deep contemplation crossed Mike's face, his eyebrows furrowing in reflection. "That's only if they intended to release them upon arrival, Levi. A more likely scenario is that they would store the A-classes in a discreet location in preparation for an all-out assault or try to distribute them across the country for some heavy muscle. I just wish we knew what made them begin upping their game so drastically."

 _Crash!_

The door burst open and a tall, squawking woman dressed in fatigues and a lab coat fell face first into the floor. While Mike snorted in amusement at her misstep, Levi swore and stooped to help the woman to her feet.

"Fuck's sake, Shitty Glasses. Just use the fucking doorknob like a normal person!" He berated her, a look of distaste spread across his features as he stared at the myriad of stains gathered like medals on Hanji's coat.

"Sorry, Shorty! I got a little bit excited, you see." Hanji's sent a wide but sheepish grin his way before realizing where she was and snapped to attention. "Centurion! Head of R&D and Titan Research Hanji Zoe reporting!"

"I can see that, Hanji." Erwin smiled lightly, "Levi, Hanji has been putting together a theory on where those A-class came from and how they were being contained. Judging by your enthusiasm, I assume your team has made some kind of discovery?"

Hanji's head bobbed up and down wildly, a look of joy on her face. "I think we figured it all out! Thanks to the heli's video feeds I've come up with a hypothesis that will explain how the Titans managed to keep those A-classes so docile in their containers!"

She reached into her lab coat and pulled out a small touchscreen tablet. She activated it and the screen lit up, showing a bird's-eye view of the airstrip. Levi glared at the image of the A-class staring up toward the camera, its arms reaching for the helicopter, mere moments before it had been torn to pieces by the barrage.

 _I knew I loved white phosphorus for a reason._

"Hold on, let me switch this thing to thermal imaging real quick." Hanji mumbled, her fingers dancing over the screen as menus and toolbars appeared and disappeared rapidly. The image suddenly shifted into a deep royal blue, the titan itself glowing bright yellow.

"Wait." Erwin gestured toward the corner of the screen where the corner of a container shone a deep orange. "Why is that being picked up on by the thermal camera?"

"Damn, that was my line." Hanji grumbled, before continuing in her speech. "At first I thought that it was just leftover heat from the A-class but as the video progressed…"

She skipped forward to a few seconds to where Broadsword had turned its fire on the containers. The cracked container, shown in a deep orange hue, stood from the its fellows. The five remaining ones positively gleamed with a bright, hot yellow light. Unease settled in Levi's stomach, he still had yet to come to terms with the realization that he and his team had been only a few hundred meters from a pack of fifteen meter tall nightmares.

"You see that? Even without a titan inside of it, the inside of that cargo container is still producing a generous amount of heat." Hanji seemed to be building up to her point, laying out little bread crumbs of information for the three of them to decipher. "According to my calculations the inside of that container would have been roughly two hundred degrees Fahrenheit in temperature, if it was still sealed of course."

In Levi's opinion, she was acting like a schoolteacher trying to prompt the correct answer from a struggling student. A habit of hers which he found a little endearing but most times annoying.

"Any particular reason they turned those crates into titan saunas?" He muttered, sitting himself down across from Erwin.

 _I should have brought the vodka with me…_

Hanji hugged the tablet to her chest, the answer on the tip of her tongue, "It's how they put them to sleep! My theory is that when an A-class overheats it enters a kind of hibernation to avoid spontaneous combustion! The ones at the airfield were practically docile, well except the one that got out but you know what I mean."

Suddenly Levi felt the bottom of his stomach drop, his eyes widened slightly as a horrible realization dawned upon him.

"Hanji." He stated breathlessly, "You're not suggesting that we-"

"Use this method to capture a live A-class specimen?" Hanji jumped in before he could finish, the look of maniacal joy making Levi groan out loud. "I'd thought you'd never ask, Levi! I've already begun drafting schematics for the capture device and I'll be doing a few trail runs next weekend!"

"Erwin! You're not taking this seriously are you?!" Levi demanded, his arm extended accusingly at the scientist, "Haven't any of you seen Jurassic Park? We start trying to catch one of these motherfuckers and we'll end up right in its stomach!"

"Not if we're smart about this!" Hanji protested, "We have plenty of space in the east wing of the mine, all we gotta do is install some fail safes and maybe a few heat sinks…"

Levi was about argue the point but was stilled by Erwin's sharp gesture.

"Hanji, if you were given sufficient resources and time, what do you think we could learn from a captured titan?" Erwin posed the question as if this had been his plan all along. Actually, it probably was.

 _Sneaky bastard._

"I don't even know where to get started on the amount information we could learn! Weaknesses, blind spots, chemical vulnerabilities, behavioral patterns, basic rationality testing, the list goes on for miles!" Hanji was laying it on thick, trying her hardest to get the chance she's been waiting for. Levi thought her request to capture titans was one part smart and nine parts bat-shit crazy, the Legion had hard enough time _killing_ the damn things as it is, it didn't need the risk of trying shove one into a microwaved cargo container.

Erwin was quiet for a few moments, seemingly in deep thought. Hanji stood inches from his desk, leaning almost completely over the table and radiating a child-like anticipation.

"Mike, Hanji. Bring me a full report on how we will capture and contain an A-class titan. Make some backup plans as well, and we will meet again to discuss the finer points of this mission. Dismissed."

Mike snapped into a crisp salute, though Hanji was too busy fist-pumping and silently yelling 'YES' to notice her breach of etiquette. The scientist then suddenly grabbed Mike by the hand and bodily dragged him out the door, babbling something about him being 'slower than Levi's growth spurt'.

"Levi, stay a minute."

Levi turned back to Erwin, his face deadpan as usual, "I haven't even stood up yet, Erwin. Relax."

"Normally I would have agreed with you on this matter, Levi." Erwin ignored that last comment, "Capturing and containing a live A-class will result in casualties on our side. There's no getting around that. And we don't know if Hanji could learn anything new from a live specimen anyway."

"Why the change the of heart then?" Levi asked, "Hanji may be smarter than the average egghead, but she's five times as crazy. I hope you haven't forgotten about the lab rat incident."

"No, I have not." Erwin shuddered for a moment then continued, "The Titans are becoming more aggressive. We have reports that they have almost taken over all criminal enterprises in the west coast, they are returning to New York City in droves and now we know that they trying to smuggle A-classes into the US."

"Don't have to tell me twice." Levi agreed, grumbling slightly, "My team's been pulling in three or four missions a month. The boys in damage control are having trouble keeping up with us."

"The Titans are on the offensive, and if I'm not mistaken." Erwin reached into his desk and carefully pulled out two crystal glasses and a bottle of vintage brandy, "There's a storm brewing on the horizon and we need every advantage if we're going to weather it. Hanji's research might just be the tipping point of this war."

The words hung in the air like grim omens, souring Levi's mood even more than usual.

Erwin cleared his throat, and in a brighter tone of voice asked, "Interest you in a brandy?"

* * *

 _ **Tuesday 23:00, February 28th… Wings of Freedom Bar & Tavern, The Bronx**_

* * *

Annie stood outside the Freedom's door, hesitation slowing her body and her mind.

 _This is it. The lion's den._

She glanced around, the small parking lot was empty and the streets behind the covered fence were silent. Total privacy. Exactly what she feared most when dealing with gangsters. The 104th had developed a reputation in the Bronx. A bloody reputation that, from the crime scene photos Dok had provided for her, was well deserved.

No rival dared enter their territory without permission, lest they attract their attention. The stupid who flew their colors here ended up being sent back to their turf with shattered limbs and torn eyes. Every once in awhile a gang would take offence to this and attempt a retaliation. The river fish always became full and happy on those nights.

Her hand stilled on its way to ring the door buzzer, a cloud of doubt circling her mind. Eren was waiting for her in there, along with the rest of his goons. Well-trained, hardened criminals that took pride in throwing their weight around. She'd be outnumbered and minutes away from help if things went south.

A small voice in her head whispered soft warnings to her. A trap. This had to be a trap. She'd disappear from the world or her body would be fished out of the river, beaten and torn, with a gypsy's smile cut into her face.

A cold, damp wind embraced her, the hairs on the back of her neck standing straight. The chain links rattled, the wind pulling at them like a musician playing their lyre. She shivered, the weight of her fear nesting in the pit of her stomach, the thought of just running the opposite direction becoming more and more attractive as time ticked by.

She could just walk back out the front gate. Catch a cab to the nearest bus station and ride the greyhound out of this filthy city. Nobody would find her, not Eren, not Dok, not even Bertholdt and Reiner. She wasn't an agent anymore anyway, she could just _leave_. Wash her hands of the 104th and the FBI. Live a nice life working a normal day job, live in the same apartment for more than a few months, maybe she would even adopt a dog. Fuck it, two dogs.

 _...And a parakeet. Can't forget about the parakeet._

Annie laughed cynically to herself at the idea. She wouldn't be able to lead a normal life and she damn well knew it. The idea that she could leave the city alive was laughable once she really thought about it. The 104th wouldn't take her theft lying down, and Dok had risked too much on her to let her walk away from the plan now. Besides, there was always the chance this would actually work.

"Fuck my life." She whispered, and slammed her fist against the iron door. The deep sound vibrated through the air, silencing the wind. She leaned her slim body against the railing behind her, instantly slipping back into her mask of serene disinterest, and readied herself to stare down whatever brute Jaeger sent to intimidate her.

 _Rule number one: Never show weakness._

The door squeaked as it was pushed open. Annie rolled her shoulders, it was time for the show to begin...

"Hello? Can I help you?" A short, thin man with a feminine face and bright sun-yellow hair stood in the doorway, his bright blue eyes gazing at her with a look of perplexed interest.

Annie stared at him in utter confusion. She'd been been a Reiner-sized bouncer, but I guess the 104th had more than few surprises left in them.

"You Ok, there?" The man asked, then a look of understanding bounced onto his face, "Oh! You must be Annie Leonhardt, right?"

Before she could react, the blond stepped aside and invited her inside, his mouth shifting into a small smile, "Welcome to the Freedom! The others are a bit busy so feel free to help yourself to a drink, they shouldn't be too long."

Annie just stood there, stupefied.

 _Help myself to a...drink?_

"Nice to meet you. My name's Armin by the way."

* * *

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Attack on Titan or it's characters. I also do not own anything in New York City.**

 **Hello again everybody! Thank you for reading my fanfic and I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. Sorry about the long wait but sometimes the writing takes way too long. Leave a review if you want and enjoy the day!**

 **P.S. I'm changing the format of this fic very slightly, instead of using ' ' to show character thoughts I'm instead going to use _italics_. So I'm gonna be changing up the old chapters just a little bit here and there over the next few days. Hopefully this change will make the fic a little more clear and easy to read.**

 **bubbleduckie: Glad you're enjoying the fic! I agree that Annie is one of the most badass characters in the anime so I'm trying to portray her accurately.**


	7. Unsafe Working Conditions

_**Tuesday 23:03, February 28th… Wings of Freedom Bar & Tavern, The Bronx**_

* * *

"Nice to meet you. My name's Armin by the way."

Annie took a breath to compose herself, expertly banishing any trace of confusion from her face before the blond could notice.

"Where's Jaeger?" She sent a searching glance behind Armin. There was no way that this skinny kid was the only one here.

Armin shrugged his slim shoulders, "He's out on business right now. Like I said, you can come in. It's cold out here."

Annie stepped up and past Armin, being careful not to turn her back to him. She gave herself a few moments to get the lay of the land, her dispassionate crystal eyes taking in the many punk rock posters plastered on the walls, the sturdy-looking tables bolted to the redwood floor, and the bar that sported an impressive collection of spirits.

The Freedom had a rustic feel to it, something which reminded Annie of the dive bar she used to crash back when she was still in high school. Though this one was a good two or three times bigger than the old one, it still was familiar enough to take the edge off of her paranoia.

 _It's not paranoia if it's justified. Shit, I sound like my father._

"Nice place." Annie said, sounding bored but still slightly impressed. She walked up to the bar, running her hand across the scarred surface. Most of these scars came from knives or broken glass, so it seemed that the 104th liked to party hard.

A movement from the corner of her eye caught Annie's attention, Armin shut the door and pulled an old cellphone out of his pocket.

 _The lapdog is calling for his master. How cute._

"Ordering pizza there?" She called out, seating herself nonchalantly at the bar stool. She locked eyes with him. Sarcasm dripped form her words as she spoke, "I like mine with pepperoni and extra cheese."

Armin let a nervous chuckle in response.

"No, I'm just letting Eren know that you've showed up." Armin held up the phone in his hand, his other hand held out in non threateningly. "He asked me to text him when you arrived."

Annie's eyebrow rose in puzzlement, she had expected the man to deflect the question or feed her a line of bullshit. She definitely did not expect him to be so forthcoming.

She watched as he walked behind the bar, his dark red t-shirt hanging loosely off his frame but only reaching the top of his belt. His jeans also seemed to be both too baggy and too short, which was incredible, the guy was only a handful of inches taller than she was.

 _He's wearing someone else's clothes. Probably someone's family member staying the night, a real charity case by the looks of it. Wonder why the 104th had him wait for me?_

Armin's phone beeped cheerily from inside his pocket. He pulled it out, checked the text quickly, then slipped the phone back. "Eren's going to be back in about half an hour. Want me to get you anything while you're waiting?"

Now it was her turn to be polite, "A beer would be a good start." She said, resting her chin on her hand. One of her boots tapped loudly against the stool, her entire posture positively radiating boredom. She wasn't really bored though, far from it actually. She was to antsy for that.

"Light or dark?" Armin asked, turning his back to Annie as he searched through bottles.

"Dark. That light shit is pisswasser." Annie replied, then after a moment of silence she added, "You don't look like a bartender to me."

"I'm not." Armin turned back and handed her a bottle of craft dark beer, along with a bottle opener shaped like an eagle. "Eren needed some muscle tonight and the owner took the night off."

"So they left you here alone?" She asked, popping the top of her beer and taking a long sip.

Armin shuffled uncomfortably, "I live here. There's no other place I can go."

 _Wow, you really don't bother with the little white lies at all._

She took another sip. The beer tasted bitter, but had a swirl of apple in the aftertaste. It wasn't half bad in her opinion.

* * *

Armin was getting more than a little jumpy. Eren had told him that a new recruit would be stopping by the Freedom tonight, one that had proven herself to be dangerous. Mikasa had wanted to stay behind, be there to make sure she behaved, but Armin had waved away her concern.

Now she sat across from him, wearing a simple gray sweatshirt, dark leather jacket, and faded jeans. Her face was, in Armin's opinion, both beautiful and frightening. Angled cheekbones and jawline accentuated her prominent roman nose and round eyes. Her pale blonde hair pulled into a practical bun, except for a one of her bangs, which hung over her right eye. Her eyes held most of his attention for they seemed to cut right through him like a winter's chill.

 _I didn't expect her to be so small though. She must be tough if Eren is considering her as a member._

"Why exactly are you living in a bar?" Annie wondered out aloud, taking another sip of her drink and looking at him like he was something new in a petri dish. "I didn't know the hundred fourth takes charity cases."

Armin felt blood rush to his cheeks in embarrassment. "I'm...Ah." He rubbed the back of his neck absently, "I just got back to New York recently, I didn't have a job or a place to stay so Eren took me in and gave me a job working with him."

"Eren... took you in?" The blonde's posture straightened in interest, her beer forgotten. Armin noticed that one of her eyebrows rose slightly when she got curious.

"Yeah, Eren and I go way back." He smiled sadly, more to himself than his guest. "We're inseparable."

 _At least, we used to. He barely talks to me anymore. He's probably still angry at me for not-_

"Hey, you there?" The woman snapped her slender fingers in front of his face, making him jerk back in surprise. "You're zoning out."

"Huh? Oh, sorry."

Remembering she had beer in her hand, Annie took another sip, her eyes tracing him and his every move. He shivered under her stare, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. In his gut he knew that she was just trying to pump him for information, but he didn't want to be rude. And it wasn't like anything he told her was a secret.

"What about you, Annie? Where are you from?" He smiled at her, "I can't really place your accent."

His slip up became apparent immediately as her shoulders stiffened and her stare became even more frosty and distrustful, "I'm not from around here and where I'm from is none of your business."

He flinched at her rebuke, worried that he had somehow offended her. She obviously didn't like him asking about her past. Armin wasn't someone who enjoyed antagonizing people- he knew all too well how that felt- so he always made an effort to be cautious with his words. That philosophy had worked well for him in the past, both inside and outside prison, but he often forgot how nosy he could be when his interest was piqued.

"You're right, it's none of my business." He cleared his throat, looking for a way to steer the conversation back into her comfort zone again. "My curiosity got the better of me. Sorry."

"Oh? An apology." Annie let out a humorless chuckle, relaxing slightly, "You're awfully courteous, aren't you?"

"Just trying to be nice." Armin replied.

She took a sip of her drink, cocking her head to the side as she inspected him through half-lidded eyes. "Look kid. I don't know if you're performing some nice guy schtick to try and get in my pants or you're seriously trying to be polite, but why don't you do us both a favor and just quit while you're ahead? I'm not the socializing type, in case you hadn't figured that out."

Once again his cheeks flushed red and he dropped his gaze, keeping his eyes on his hands. He felt a little hurt by her barbed accusation- in his physical condition he could barely muster the will to get up in the morning, much less perform sexually- but he couldn't blame Annie for being defensive. He would be too if he was in her position. Still, he could sense the woman in front of him was full of secrets. And he wanted to know more.

So his damn curiosity reeled it's ugly head again and, in a rare stroke of courage, he leaned closer to her with a smirk on his face.

"How about we make a bargain then? You indulge me one more question and in exchange I'll tell anything you want to know about me and my time here. Deal?" Armin's smirk widened into a full-fledged grin as Annie narrowed her eyes at him in irritation.

* * *

 _One conversation and he's started pushing my buttons. This assignment is gonna be SO much fun, I can already tell._

"And what if I don't take your bargain?" Annie muttered, her chin resting in her palm, determined to not give Armin any reaction that he was looking for.

He shrugged in response, "We'll be seeing each other almost everyday once you join, so I'll just keep asking until you decide to tell me. And I guarantee you... I won't be the only one either. Connie and Sasha in particular will never leave you alone if they think you're blowing them off."

Annie sighed, exasperated. Her options seemed limited by this point.

 _I could just beat his ass. That'll make him realize talking to me is a recipe for disaster._

She considered the idea for a moment. After all the man didn't look he'd put up much of a fight so she could kick him around the room like a football and not worry about him defending himself. Annie wouldn't need to hurt him that bad, just enough to get the message through to him. She'd taken many such beatings before, she'd also given plenty of them. Those were some of the nicer things that she had done while undercover.

But something about the young man made that idea taste sour to her. Probably because how open he was being with her, she felt like it would be like kicking an overly-inquisitive puppy. She was finding it difficult _not_ to trust him.

 _Also Jaeger probably wouldn't be too happy about me scaring his friend._

"Fine, you win." She mumbled, now more amused than suspicious, "I'm from Michigan. Grew up in the outskirts of a tiny, little city that half drowned itself in a lake long ago. Good enough for you?"

Armin nodded happily, a thoughtful sparkle dancing in his ocean-blue eyes. "Must have been beautiful living up there, forests and lakefronts everywhere. Sounds very peaceful."

"If you like freezing your ass off in the middle of the woods, there's no better place." She said sarcastically, then she thought for a moment before adding, "I prefer cities. Everybody keeps to themselves around here... Except for _you_ apparently."

She took another sip from her beer, the bottle was almost empty now. "Your turn, kid. Tell me about the hundred fourth."

"What do you want to know?" He asked, pushing a lock of his wheat blonde hair behind his ear.

She looked him up and down appraisingly, "You really as tight with Jaeger as you say?"

"I like to think I am." He responded with another smile. This one even wider.

"Alright. Anything I should watch out for?" She asked, "He wasn't exactly friendly when we met."

Armin scoffed at that, "Eren is… protective. If he feels like someone is trying to take what's his, he'll stop at nothing to defend it. That goes double if someone he cares for is threatened."

He leaned onto his elbows, and Annie noticed that his hands were only a few inches from hers.

 _This guy really is way too genuine to be a gangster. I can see his bleeding heart from here. How is he so comfortable being around a psycho like Jaeger?_

He faltered for a moment before continuing, "Look, I know that Eren can act crazy when you first meet him, but you just have to show him that you're on his side. He's really not that complicated, he see's the world in black and white. Earn his trust and he'll treat you like family."

She considered his advice for a moment. It was obvious to her that Jaeger considered her a threat after she stole money from him, but she had been hoping that he would be pragmatic enough to accept her reasons for doing that. If Armin was correct then that might not be the case. She hated it when criminals stated making up 'morals' for themselves. In her experience the moral ones caused the most harm.

Then a thought struck her, "Wait, how long have you been in the hundred fourth?"

He rubbed the back of his head awkwardly again, glancing away from her, "I...uh. I just finished my first day. Today."

 _Ah. Now the puzzle's falling into place. He hasn't seen what his new 'friends' are capable of yet. Fuck, you really fell into the wrong crowd, kid..._

She let out a disappointed sigh, disheartened and more than little troubled by the revelation.

"How old are you?" She demanded suddenly.

"I'm twenty-five." Armin said, then he shook his head dismissively, "Yes, I know. I look young but I promise I shave."

Annie leaned forward, her face now inches away from his. Armin didn't notice at first, his eyes widening at her close proximity. She dropped her voice down to a whisper, her words breathy and cold. "You ever killed anyone before, kid?"

Armin's face paled, "W-What?"

"Do you know how it feels? When you pull the trigger and watch someone's eyes go dark?" She watched Armin fidget, obviously uncomfortable with her closeness and her tone, "It's not like in the movies, you know. It's not quick."

"Have...Have you had to do it?" He asked.

Her hand shot out, her fingers roughly grabbing a handful of Armin's shirt and pulling him even closer to her. He gasped in surprise, unprepared for her sudden movement. Her sharp blue eyes locked with his startled doe eyes, sizing him up. Then she quietly admitted to him, "I have. More than once. And I know I'm going to have to do it again someday."

Annie observed his reaction carefully, taking in how his eyes widened and his mouth lay agape. She tilted her head to the side, her lips a hairsbreadth from his ear, and whispered softly, "Are you ready to do the same, kid? It'll only be a matter of time until you'll have to."

And with that she pushed him away, reclining back into her seat and nonchalantly finishing her beer. She gave him a moment to process what she said.

He didn't get his moment, the door to the tavern burst open, and two people walked inside. Eren Jaeger was at the head, his hands stuffed inside the pockets of his field jacket and a manic look in his eyes. A tall, vaguely asian woman was a step behind him, her scarlet scarf wrapped tightly around her neck.

Jaeger stopped in the middle of the room and called out, "Everything Ok over there?"

* * *

Armin absently smoothed out his shirt, "We're all good here."

Eren snorted contemptuously, "You two getting nice and friendly over there?"

 _Jesus Eren. You've been using again._

"We were just keeping each other company until you guys got back." Armin walked around the bar and stood next to Annie, "Something wrong?"

"Better not be." The leader of the 104th sent his glare to Annie, then asked her, "You ready?"

"As I'll ever be." She replied, standing up from the bar stool.

"Good." Eren jerked his head, gesturing to the hallway door, "Let's get the show on the road."

Annie cast one final look at the exit, then followed Eren down the hall. Armin waited a few seconds, and joined her. Mikasa fell into step with him, and wrapped her arm around his shoulders. Armin looked up and gave her a tired smile.

Mikasa returned it, then whispered, "She give you any trouble?"

Armin frowned and shot a glance at the blonde woman walking ahead of them, just out of earshot. Something in her manner earlier had made him uncomfortable and a little frightened, but he'd get over it.

"No. We just talked for a little bit." He whispered back, "She's on edge."

His foster sister's face reverted back to her usual stony expression, "You shouldn't get too close to her, Armin."

Armin rolled his eyes, "Yes, Mom."

Mikasa squeezed him tighter, "Cut that out. I get enough of that from Eren."

The four them stepped into the garage, Mikasa removing her arm from his shoulders as they did, and Armin was surprised at what he saw.

Dozens of people were standing, lounging, and drinking inside the garage, creating a circle of murmuring bodies. He recognized most of them, they had stopped by the Freedom at some time or another, as members of the 104th. He spotted Connie and Sasha leaning against the wall, joking loudly with each other. Jean stood with Marco in the corner, both of them nodded to Armin as he walked in then returning to their own conversation. Ymir sat on her parked motorcycle, leaning on the handlebars and puffing on a cigarette. Krista sat on the seat behind her, idly chatting with a few gangsters.

"How did they get in so quietly?" Armin wondered, "The bar was empty…"

"Ymir let them in from the garage door." Mikasa answered, "It was part of the plan."

 _Plan? What plan?_

Just as he was about ask, Eren stepped into the center of the circle and raised one hand to get everyone's attention. The murmuring died immediately.

Eren stood in silence for moment. Then he threw up his arms and shouted, "ARE YOU GUYS READY TO SEE A FUCKING SHOW?!"

Cheers and whoops rose to match him, the gangsters jumping up with huge grins on their faces and bottles of booze in their hands. Armin stayed silent, trying to avoid being jostled too hard by the press of bodies pushing against him.

The boss smiled brightly, his eyes twinkling, "Now I KNOW!" He yelled, his voice carrying over the others easily, "That this is all a bit sudden. Most of ya'll had plans tonight. But hey, tough shit."

The room broke off into laughter, then waited for what he was going to say next.

"I KNOW!" He continued, suddenly all business, "That signing up with the hundred fourth ain't an easy thing to fucking do!"

Someone from the back yelled, "No it ain't!"

"I KNOW! That each and every one of us had to fight to earn our place here! I remember working for Shadis for months before he even let me drink at this FINE establishment!" He stopped and bowed low to Krista, who blushed at the compliment, while cries of 'Hell yeah' and 'Best booze in the state!' exploded from the crowd.

"It takes time, dedication, and most importantly… _loyalty_." Eren's hand balled into a fist, "To become one of us."

"Every one of us, every man and every woman in here right now, is more than willing of putting their lives on the line for each other!" Eren paced around the circle slowly, deliberately, "I ain't lying when I say you guys are the only family I've got!"

The crowd bellowed their approval, shouts of 'you're my brother!' and 'fuck _yeah_ we're family!' nearly deafened Armin, who was beginning to get swept up in the atmosphere. He looked to his right where Mikasa stood, completely silent and a look of dead seriousness in her eyes. He followed her gaze to Annie, who was standing just outside the circle. Something was off about this whole thing.

* * *

Annie glanced around furtively, chills running down her spine. She knew what he was doing, she read about it in her psychology books. He was firing them up, wrapping them up in a shared identity. The 104th verses the world.

 _And I'm the fall guy. He's gonna point the finger any minute now._

Just as she was about to speak up, Eren roared in fury, "And WE KNOW! That someone here tonight… thought they could just WALK right in!"

 _Well, shit!_

The 104th exploded into a whirlwind of howls and outcries, some of the ones closest to her shoved her into the circle. She almost fell, but managed catch herself, the jeers escalated as Annie stared down the thugs that pushed her. The circle got smaller, the surrounding press of bodies cutting off any chance of escape.

"Hey, Annie." Eren called out to her over the taunts, "Do you know why you're here?"

She glared at him, crossing her arms over her chest, "Either I'm here to get jumped in* or I'm here to listen to you paint me up like a fucking sacrificial lamb."

More taunts and insults met her words, but Jaeger burst into laughter. Annie watched him carefully, as he begun to pace around her. She suddenly regretted leaving her pistol behind. This was not going well.

"You know what, Annie?" Jaeger said, reaching out to grab a beer that one of the gangsters offered him, "You're totally, one hundred percent, right."

He downed a fourth of the beer in one smooth swallow.

"Because this can go either way for you." He turned to face her directly, "You impress me and my crew, and I promise I'll let bygones be bygones-"

"That bitch stole our money!"

"She robbed us!"

The crowd screamed their protest, a few of the more bold ones reaching out to try and shove Annie. She dodged their hands, and raised her voice to shout over the crowd, "I didn't keep the money! I gave it back last night. I only stole to get your boss's attention!"

"And breaking that old man's nose?" He demanded, "You did that to get my attention too?"

Annie shrugged, "He got in the way."

The group booed her for that, but Jaeger held up his hands. They fell silent, dozens of eyes fell on him. They were waiting. Hanging on his every word.

"Fair enough. We all had times when someone got in our way, and we had to set them straight. Part of the business, comes with the territory and so on." Jaeger handed his beer back and walked right up to her, towering over Annie by almost a foot, "But you fucked up a civvy in my territory. You stole money from us, you took food off _my_ table."

"I gave it back in under a day." She growled at him, "No food off your table."

Jaeger leaned in close to her, dropping his voice so only Annie could hear, "But you stole from me, that's an insult…And now you want me to give you a place here?"

"I thought you'd be smart enough to know talent when you see it." Annie replied scathingly, "So you gonna let me prove myself or what?"

He laughed loudly and boastfully. "Fuck it, that's what we're here for!"

Jaeger took a few steps away from her and dropped into a boxer's stance, bouncing on the balls of his feet in anticipation, "C'mon girl, show me what you got!"

Annie glanced around. Everywhere she looked she saw glee-twisted faces screaming at her, like a pack of starving dogs that bayed for blood. The only things keeping the horde of gangsters from mobbing her was Jaeger's involvement . Panic took root inside her brain, spilling down her spine and through her heart.

 _They want to see a show, and he wants to tear me apart. This was a mistake, I didn't vet the details, I misread Jaeger's personality, I fucked up_ _ **somewhere**_ _. Shit. Shit. SHIT._

She took a step forward, breathing in deeply to calm herself, then took her own stance. She held her arms in front of her, her feet spaced out comfortably for maximum stability. Her muscles relaxed as she prepared herself the coming battle, never taking her eyes of the crime boss in standing in front of her.

Everything was riding on this. Thousands of outcomes flashed past her mind, each one more gruesome than the last. She needed to get out of here, before Jaeger decided to throw her to the wolves. And there was only one way out: over Jaeger's beaten and bloodied body.

They squared off, eyeing each other up, waiting for an opening.

Jaeger struck first.

He lept forward, one fist sailing straight for her face in a lightning-fast haymaker. Annie shifted her weight, dipping to the side to dodge. She felt the rush of air over her head as his punch missed her by less than an inch. She countered, throwing her body weight behind the attack, slamming her fist into Eren's armpit. He flinched, stumbling away from her in pain, his face livid with rage.

She had hit him directly in a pressure point, by all rights he should have been screaming in pain on the floor. So Annie was taken off-guard when Jaeger shook himself out of it and launched another punch. Acting on instinct Annie threw herself to the side, another sledgehammer strike flew passed, barely missing her. Not in the least bit discouraged, Eren simply stepped up the tempo.

He swung again, wider this time, and Annie capitalized on the opportunity. She grabbed hold of the inside of his arm and pulled him into a clinch, immobilizing him. She had just shifted her body weight in preparation of throwing her opponent to floor when Jaeger, realizing that his arm was locked away, headbutted her. Annie cried out in pain and kicked him away from her. A trickle of blood ran out of her nose.

 _I had to end this quickly, before I made another mistake._

The two met again, their bodies a blur of movement. She was fast, dodging or blocking every punch that Jaeger threw her way. But he was almost a foot taller than her, outweighed her by a good forty pounds, and fueled by his own righteous anger. The fight continued, Annie throwing a barrage of kicks and jabs at him. She hit hard and fast, trying to wear down his defenses but never dropping her own guard. Most of her strikes didn't make it to Eren's flesh, the gangster managing to block most of them with his forearms, the blows that did land were shrugged off with a curse.

They separated, backing up against the circle to get some breathing room. Jaeger was still full of energy, the pain she inflicted on him had done nothing but rile him up, he paced back and forth like a jungle cat ready to pounce. The gangsters from the crowd reached out, patting him on the back and shouting encouragement in his ears. Annie let her breath out in a long low sigh and wiped away the blood running from her nose. She took the moment to come up with a new strategy.

 _He's using an orthodox boxing stance*, he's got more reach than I do, and he obviously doesn't care about pain. If he keeps me at arm's distance, it's only a matter of time before he outranges me. I need to get him on the ground._

Annie was well-trained, an expert in multiple forms of martial arts. Her father had spent a majority of the his time with her practicing fighting skills, and the FBI had further tempered her skill. Her time undercover had only sharpened her combat instincts; but Jaeger was a veteran marine turned violent criminal, broken down and rebuilt in the crucible of war, both at home and abroad. He was a dangerous combination of tenacity and aggression.

She went on the offensive, Annie's arms a blur of jabs, crosses, and hooks. She made sure to target his head, trying to keep his eyes focused on her hands. Eren tried to back away from her assault, and when his back hit the edge of the circle Connie grabbed his jacket and pushed him forward. She was taken off guard, and Jaeger used the extra momentum and her confusion to land his first real punch.

Annie felt his fist connect with her face, her head jerked sideways from the force of the blow. If Eren himself hadn't been surprised by the sudden help, he could have easily broken her jaw. A gasp was the only sound that escaped her lips before her focus returned, her eyes narrowed in anger.

She exploded into a flurry of precise, damaging strikes. Eren had his guard up just in time, weathering the assault with bear-like resilience, but with his hands in front of his face he couldn't see Annie shift her weight to her back leg. She shot into motion, twisting her hips like a spring that was wound too tight, she executed her signature roundhouse kick. Her shin slammed into Jaeger's side with force to rival a baseball bat, her boot making a loud cracking sound against the leather of his jacket. Jaeger was staggered, his teeth grinding together in agony as the air left his lungs.

She had him off-balance now, so Annie hooked her leg around her opponent's and shoved him backward. "Fuck!" Eren cried out in surprise as he fell to the concrete floor. Annie jumped on top of him, viciously beating his face and torso. Eren thrust his hips forward, almost unseating Annie from her pin until she shifted forward and slammed her elbow into his face. Jaeger's nose burst into a bloody flower, staining his face and clothing bright red.

The crowds' cheers shifted into roars of denial and outrage, the circle tightening around the two combatants. Annie couldn't afford to take her eyes off Eren, but she could feel the crowd moving around them, some of the gangsters standing only a few feet away.

A streak of fear shot through her, if the crowd decided to come to their leader's aid she would be defenseless. She was running out of time, so she redoubled her attacks.

 _Tap out already, you motherfucker!_

She heard glass break behind her and her instincts kicked in. Annie looked over her shoulder, one arm ready to deflect an incoming attack. She expected a thug come at her with a broken bottle.

Instead she saw red-scarfed woman standing quietly, holding a empty beer glass by her fingertip. A sparkle of light caught Annie's eye, and when she glanced down, she saw shards of glass around the taller woman's feet.

 _Did she drop-_

Her were thoughts cut off as something hard and metal cracked her across the back of the skull, her vision going dark for a second as she swooned from the blow. She felt Eren latch onto her arm and push her off of him. She flung her hand out as the floor rushed up to meet her, glass cutting into her palm. While Annie lay unmoving, her cheek pressed into the cold concrete, voices rushed to her.

"Get up, bitch. We ain't finished with you!"

"Girl got _fucked_ up!"

"Shouldn'ta fucked with the one-oh-four!"

"I'm going to die."

Annie flinched at the last voice. She recognized it. It came from her own mouth.

 _They set me up._

She tried to push herself up, head pounding. Someone grabbed the back of her hoodie and pulled her to her feet. She blinked and shook her head, her vision separating in two shaky images. She looked around groggily, a room full of screaming, frenzied faces filling her vision. Then off to the side, she saw a flash of blonde. She focused in on the golden halo that stood out to her.

Whoever was holding her up shook her, a man's voice screaming into her ear but Annie couldn't understand a word of it because she too focused on searching. Armin's face appeared in the crowd, surrounded by his golden halo of hair. Her woozy, lidded eyes met his wide, horrified orbs. One thought swam into her mind.

 _Keep watching, kid… you'll know what your new friends are capable of soon enough._

She was shaken again, and Annie looked up at the man holding her up. Jaeger stood next to her, one hand hooked into her hoodie. Blood poured out of his hairline, nose, and mouth, covering his entire face. His bright, vibrant green eyes shone out of the dark vermilion and his teeth stood stark white as he grinned madly at her. He looked like he wanted to eat her alive.

"You almost had me there, Annie." His voice washed over her, low and taunting, "But you gotta keep your eye on the prize out here."

His other hand came into view, and so did the Colt .45 caliber semi-automatic pistol he was holding.

Annie's eyes locked onto the gun, her mind rushed back to full alertness in an instant. She tried to kick her knee into his groin but he shifted, blocking it with his outer thigh. Before she could try again, Jaeger threw to the floor and kicked her, his boot banging painfully against her ribs.

"You shouldn't have stolen from us, Annie." Jaeger told her, as he stood over her, his pistol in his hand, "We don't take that shit lightly around here."

She shivered, glaring at him from the floor, and spat out, "Fuck you!"

The surrounding 104th broke out scornful laughter, and Jaeger joined in. Her glare stole away his jovial mood, and his grin shifted into a tight-lipped frown as blood dripped off of his nose.

He shrugged and pointed the gun at her head, "Yeah, fuck you too."

* * *

When the fight had first begun, Armin watched in rapt fascination as the two fighters showed off their prowess. Watching Eren fight brought a sense of nostalgia to him. How many times had he watched his foster brother stay up late in the night to practise those punches? Apparently Eren had picked up a few tricks during his time in the Corps, he fought with more rigor and patience than normal.

But while Eren was impressive, Annie was breathtaking. She moved with such flowing grace that it made Eren look slow and lumbering. She dodged every one of Eren's punches and responded with precise strikes that were equally brutal and fluid, setting her opponent back onto his heels and opening him up for more blows.

"She's amazing…" He said breathily, awestruck.

Beside him Mikasa glowered at Annie. Her dark gray eyes never left the fight, anger clear on her face as she watched Eren wince and flinch.

As the fight went on, Armin noticed that something was off in the crowd. Before any blows were thrown, the crowd had been antagonistic towards Annie. Shouting about her stealing money from them- that was the first that Armin had of it- and yelling mocking insults at her. Hell, the man to his left had leaned over to him and made a joke about how Annie had just slit her own throat.

He brushed it off as gangsters trash talking a new recruit, he got some too when Mikasa first announced his membership in the 104th. He got a lot more of it during his first week of incarceration. And after watching Annie flawlessly execute countless sequences of attacks, he wasn't the only person in the crowd to be wowed by her technique. He winced sympathetically when Eren almost took her head off with his punch, but to everyone's surprise Annie's attacks only got faster after that.

But once Annie had gotten the upperhand, and pinned Eren under her slight frame, the atmosphere became thunderously violent. Men and women jumped, shoved, and pushed themselves closer, the circle barely a few feet across. Armin was pulled along with them, wincing as he was roughly jostled back and forth. If there had been music playing he would have sworn that the garage had become a moshpit. Thankfully Connie, Sasha, and Jean had managed to restrain the crowd and keep the surrounding gangsters from joining in, and he assumed that the test could continue without interruption.

Then he saw Mikasa break a glass, directly behind Annie.

" _Part of the plan…"_

He watched as Annie turned around, distracted.

" _She stole from us…"_

He watched as Ymir discreetly slid a pistol to Eren from the edges of the circle.

" _You shouldn't get too close to her, Armin..."_

He watched her slump to the floor after Eren pistol whipped her.

" _You ever killed anyone before, kid?"_

He watched as Eren showed off his half-conscious opponent like a trophy to the rest of the 104th, the gun held loosely in his free hand.

" _It'll only be a matter of time until you'll have to."_

Armin watched in silent disbelief, his stomach churning sickeningly. For the first time in his life he felt fear, loathing, and despair when he looked at his best friend. The true reason for the gathering had become horribly clear to him. The whole thing was nothing more than a baited trap.

 _They're going to kill her._

They had tricked Annie inside, convinced her that it was just a simple test- impress the boss and join up. Eren had lied to her face, Mikasa had backed his lie, and the two of them placed Armin on the doorstep to lure her in with a false sense of security. He had unwittingly welcomed her to her death.

With a smile on his face.

Annie was on the floor, Eren standing over her with his gun pointing down at her. Any moment now he'd pull the trigger and…

"We're going to kill her." He whispered to himself, half out of shock and half out of disbelief. Realization stormed into his mind as he said those words. He'd said 'we' instead of 'they'. After all, wasn't he also part of the 104th? Wasn't he just as responsible?

Annie's voice called to him from his memory, whispering coldly in his ears.

" _You ever killed anyone before, kid?"_

He hadn't. And he wasn't going to start today.

* * *

Annie stared down the barrel of a .45, the oily glint of its muzzle reflecting the light from the only working light bulb inside the garage. She knew that she wouldn't be able to disarm Jaeger before he blew a hole in her head, so her brain was overworking itself as she frantically searched for a way out.

But as she watched his finger tighten around the trigger, the only thing she could come up with was to close her eyes.

 _I almost had it..._

"Ow!"

A voice cried out in pain from above her, high-pitched and sudden. Her eyes flew open, and what she saw made her jaw drop in complete surprise.

Armin was standing next to Jaeger, his right hand wrapped around the back of the gun. A small trickle of blood ran down his fingers, and Annie realized that Armin had jammed his hand between the gun's hammer and firing pin, stopping it from firing just as Eren had pulled the trigger.

 _What the hell?_

"What the hell?!" Jaeger snarled at the much smaller male, a murderous look in his bloodshot eyes, "Have you lost your fucking mind?!"

"Me?! You're the one who's lost it, Eren!" Armin spat back at him, and Eren's face twisted in rage at those words, "You're about to murder someone in _Krista's garage_! You're letting emotion cloud your judgement!"

"She stole from us!" Eren shouted into his face, spraying blood and spit at Armin like crimson bullets.

"And you gave her your word that you'd give her a chance!" Armin shouted right back, and Annie was taken aback by the anger in his voice. "You set this whole thing up because you were too much of fucking bitch to admit she got one over on you!"

All the noise in the room died suddenly, as everybody stared at the two men standing, unmoving and glaring at each other. Nobody in the room could believe that meek little Armin would ever purposely insult Eren like that. Then Jaeger spoke up.

"What did you just call me?" He kept his voice low, but the threat in his tone shook everyone to their core.

Now Armin looked nervous, but he stood his ground, "Y-you heard me, Eren."

Annie tried to sit up, gasping as she accidentally put weight on her cut palm. Armin glanced down at the sound, and Annie saw concern in his bright blue eyes. An idea popped into her head. If she'd backed him up against Jaeger, then there might be a chance that she'd live to see the next sunrise.

 _Jaeger's a psycho, but he's probably not gonna kill his childhood friend in cold blood. If I stay close to Armin, he might let us go. Christ kid, I hope you're right about being tight with him!_

"Look at me!" Eren's order came out more as violent bark. Both Annie and Armin looked back at the seething gang leader, but Jaeger was too busy staring down Armin to notice her glaring at him, "Let go of the gun."

Armin shook his head defiantly, but Annie could see his hands shake. The kid was terrified.

A sneer appear on Jaeger's face, "You disobeying me now too? First, you insult me and now you're being insubordinate. That shit don't fly in the hundred fourth, Armin."

"I know." Armin replied anxiously, his hand still on the gun, "Please Eren, I'm trying to stop you from making a mista-"

"No, no, no, Armin." Eren told him, placing his hand on Armin's shoulder in a way that was almost… friendly, not that stopped the blond from flinching at his touch, "I already made one mistake tonight, and that was when I DIDN'T BREAK YOUR FUCKING SKULL OPEN FOR GETTING IN MY WAY!"

Before either of them had a chance to recover, Eren's hand jumped from Armin's shoulder and slapped him violently across the face. Jaeger put his weight behind the blow, and Armin lost his balance and tumbled down.

Annie felt her breath escape her as the the blond man fell on top of her, and just as Annie was about to push him off, she heard a loud, metal click. Once again Eren had her at gunpoint, and Armin's body was the only shield she had.

"You going… You going to k-kill me too, Eren?" Armin asked, rubbing his stinging cheek.

"Only if you don't get out of my way." Was the only reply Jaeger gave him. Annie grabbed the back of Armin's shirt, making damn sure that he remembered that she was still there. At this moment he was her best chance of getting out here.

"Eren." A cold, but worried female voice interrupted the stand off. Annie glanced back, careful to keep the gun in her view. The tall, raven-haired woman wearing a red scarf around her neck stepped into the circle, Annie now recognized her face from the files she had studied in Dok's office.

 _Mikasa Ackerman, Jaeger's foster sister and the Lieutenant of the 104th. She's the bitch that distracted me. She's part of the set up._

Mikasa dashed over to Eren, standing shoulder to shoulder with him, "Eren, you need to calm down, Armin isn't the enemy here."

"Yeah well, he fucking fooled me!" He snapped, his whole body shaking with rage.

Mikasa leaned in close to whisper into Eren's ear, but Annie could just make out her words, "Armin isn't trying to undermine you. He didn't know about the plan, so to him it looks like you're about to kill a talented prospect because she beat you in a fight."

"She didn't beat me." Eren spat, a claim that Annie was severely tempted to correct.

But Armin beat her to the punch, "She had you beat until Mikasa stepped in." Annie flinched at the look that crossed Jaeger's bloody face when he said that, and she noticed hushed murmurs begun to spread throughout the crowd. Armin quailed under that glare but continued on, "The only reason we're even in this situation right now is because Ymir slipped you a gun!"

Annie pulled herself closer to him, and frantically whispered to him, "Thanks for sticking up for me kid, but for fuck's sake stopping trying to piss him off!"

Instead of shutting his mouth, Armin continued on like she hadn't said a thing, "Annie might even be able to give Mikasa a run for her money! We _need_ that kind of talent in the gang if we want to stay ahead of the curve! Who cares if she stole from you, she gave it back right?"

Eren nodded, his pistol lowering slightly. The gang boss looked like he actually _listened_ to Armin _._ Annie guessed it had something to do with his lieutenant standing next to him, Jaeger seemed to be exponentially calmer when she was around.

"Then we're good! If you're still pissed at her for jumpstarting her membership then just have her work it off. Make do some grunt work until we can trust her. Eren, if I can see her potential then I know you can!"

"And what happens when word gets out that I let someone who tried to fuck with me join the gang?" Eren demanded, "How many punks would try and rob us to get my attention, Armin?"

The crowd murmured their agreement.

With barely a moment to think, Armin responded, "You let me in didn't you?"

Eren snorted at that, "No shit. You're family."

"Those punks you mentioned don't know that." Armin cut back in, a look of triumph spreading across his face, "I took me in under a month."

Mikasa nodded, and told Eren, "He's right about that. We took him in as soon as Marco declared him healthy."

Annie pushed her hand against Armin's back, trying to spur him to his feet. She was feeling more confident about her chances now. Jaeger was calming down, no longer bothering to keep his pistol trained on her. If she could just get to her feet, she might be able to shove Armin at him and grab the gun. And after enough subtle nudges, Armin begun to rise from the floor, and she followed with her fist holding tightly onto his shirt. In case she needed a hostage.

"Fuck it. All's fair in love and war." Eren said before he raised his voice, not enough to shout but loud enough for everyone in the room to hear clearly, "Mikasa. What's your take on our initiate?"

 _Wait, what?_

Mikasa looked Annie up and down with her dead, dark eyes and gave her opinion with clear honesty and precision, "I believe the initiate is more concerned with her own survival than the survival of the gang. But she shows keen combat instincts and is obviously well-trained, plus she showed bravery today. Most initiates run away before even stepping past the front door."

She nodded to Annie in grudging respect, "I approve of the initiate."

Annie almost sagged in relief, instead she stood at her full five feet of height. She dropped her hands to her side as she waited with bated breath.

 _I have a chance to fix this! I can't believe it… I might walk out of her today as member of the one oh fourth! I might be able to get my job and my life back after all. Dok you better be fucking satisfied when I report back!_

Jaeger broke the silence, "Jean, What do you say about this?"

A tall well-dressed man stepped forward into the circle, "I think our little blond friend's got more balls then the entire western seaboard."

"Which one are you talking about?" Ymir called back to him with an amused cackle.

Jean shrugged, "Either of them. I approve of the initiate."

 _Oh, so the 104th's a democracy. Good to know._

"What about you, Ymir?" Eren asked, still staring directly at Armin.

"She's an antisocial bitch with a bad attitude and a worse fashion sense." Ymir let out a loud long yawn, for dramatic effect, before winking snidely at Annie, "I like her already, boss!"

Most of the crowd broke into chuckles at her attempt at humor, except for the few standing silently in the middle of the circle. None of them dared to take their eyes off each other.

"Three for three." Eren said gravely, taking a step closer to the two blondes. Armin tried to take a step back but Annie flattened her hand against his shoulder to keep him from backing down.

 _Rule one, don't show weakness, kid._

"The last vote is mine." Eren told the room, and in that moment, Annie felt her stomach churn with uncertainty.

A moment of silence passed, before the gang leader looked her dead in the eye and said, "I do not approve of this initiate."

Just like that, all hopes for salvaging the case and her career were dashed to the ground and shattered, and while Annie was a master at controlling her emotions, this day's events had put her through a roller coaster of stress. Before she even knew she was thinking it, words shot out of her mouth like razored ice.

"Why the fuck not, Jaeger?" She hissed at him, her fists clenched and her eyes glaring death at the bastard that was standing in front of her acting like a disappointed parent, "You want me to thrash you a second time. Really show of my skills?"

Eren snorted in response, completely unamused, "That's not why I'm denying you, Annie."

Before she could demand clarification, he turned and nodded to Armin, "He's the reason I'm saying no."

" _What_?!" Armin cried out, his shock clear in his voice, "Eren, how-"

"Armin, we've known each other for years, so don't beat around the bush. You don't give a shit about Annie's tactical value. You'd be just as happy if I just kick her out unharmed. That big heart of yours is getting in the way." He interrupted, watching Armin's stunned reaction with a look of sadness, "You let your emotions get the better of you, man. You're just to soft to be in this line of work."

"Fuck. That." Armin said, "Fuck all of that."

Armin stared Jaeger down directly, no longer glaring at each other but neither of them wanted to back down.

"You still want in, Annie?" Eren said, a deep frown carving itself on his lips.

She glanced around, then intoned, "I'm still here aren't I?"

"That a yes?"

She nodded.

He let out a deep sigh, "Armin, it has come to my attention that you were never officially jumped in. So you're not and never were a member of the hundred fourth."

Both Mikasa and Armin winced at that.

"But I ain't gonna kick you out yet." He raised his voice, speaking to the assembled gang, "I'm going to give both of you one more chance."

Annie shared a look with Armin, both them ill at ease.

Eren reached out and draped one arm across Armin's shoulders, the smaller man fidgeting uncomfortably at the contact, "Armin, I love you man, but you're weak."

Jaeger reached out and grabbed Annie by her leather jacket, pulling her into his bloody embrace as well, and ignoring the disgusted look she gave him, "And you Annie… Well, let's just say I'll be sleeping with both eyes open while you're here."

"So here's the plan. Armin, you going to get jumped in by Annie."

The effect of that simple sentence was like a bomb going off, everyone began yelling at once. Some gangsters howled their protests, as they had met Armin at least once and the shy, friendly man had become popular during his stay at the Freedom. Marco tried to push his way up to Eren, his concerned voice lost in the noise of the crowd. Mikasa herself stared at him as if he had lost his mind, her mouth open in shock.

Other members shouted in approval. They liked Armin, but the truth was that the kid was skinny, weak, and a bleeding heart. There was no room for weakness on the streets, and these gangsters knew that every inept member was a millstone tied around their collective necks.

One of the latter turned to the man standing next to him and said, "Ain't now way he's gonna live through that beat down."

"That's the point," Came the reply, "The boss is tryin' to scare em' out."

Jaeger ignored everyone, ordering the room to silence with a wave of his hand. He turned back to Annie, as if there had been no interruption at all.

"You're going to make sure he's tough enough to handle this membership. And I need to see if you're willing to follow my orders… no matter the cost. Get me?"

She gulped, feeling the eyes of dozens of people on her again, "For how long?"

"Sixty seconds."

She glanced at Armin, discomfort spreading throughout her body when she saw the look of terror on his face. Using him as a hostage or a bargaining chip was one thing. Beating him to a pulp was another.

 _I don't want to do this._

"I don't-" She begun.

"Ah, ah, ah!" Jaeger squeezed her tightly, his blood smearing onto her clothes, "You don't get a say in this decision. And by the way don't start thinking about trying to take my gun. I ain't the only one here who's carrying."

He turned to Armin, "I forgot to mention." Eren said, a harsh look in his eye, "One little disclaimer. If you tap out or if I see her going easy on you in any way... I'll kill her and then kick your scrawny ass out. Got it?"

Armin gulped, too stunned to argue with Jaeger. A second later he asked, "And what if I refuse?"

"You go back on the street. And I'll kill her anyway."

 _What?! What kind of a sadist would come up with that choice?!_

She knew what her answer would be if he had asked her, and she knew that her life was now in Armin's thin, weak hands.

"Armin…" She breathed, for once letting her face be full of fear. Bleeding heart or not, the kid needed some motivation. "Please!"

Her heart pounded in her chest as the seconds dragged by, an invisible guillotine hanging over her head.

"I'll do it." Armin said , somehow able to keep his voice steady. Annie let out a sigh of relief, hardy able to believe her luck.

Eren released them, took a step back, and clapped his hands together, "Jean! Do you approve of Armin officially joining the hundred fourth?"

"Eren, have you gone completely fucking crazy or what?!" Jean yelled back at him, "Look at him! He won't last ten seconds!"

"Do you approve or not, Jean?"

Jean glared viciously at him, "Yeah, I approve of Armin."

"Ymir?"

"I better not lose my trainee because of this, boss." She drawled, "I approve."

Finally he turned to Mikasa, "What about you?"

Mikasa's eyes darted rapidly between Armin and Eren, the usually unflappable woman looked like she was seconds from having a panic attack, and when she spoke up, her voice held a fraction of the strength it had before, "Eren, we can't do this to him! He's only just finished recovering, if she hits him in the wrong way, he could die!"

Eren looked over at Armin, "You hear that, Armin? You could die. Sounds like a good reason to back out."

"I heard her the first time." Armin snapped, "I can take it."

Mikasa dashed over to him, grabbing his shoulders and, almost begging, she said, "Armin, don't throw your life for somebody you just met. I don't know if you feel responsible for her or something, but people die out here, it's just life!"

Armin gave her an unsure smile, one that didn't reassure his foster sister in the slightest, "There's more to this than her, Mikasa."

His smile fell, replaced with a grimace that made him seem years older than he looked, "I can't go back out there alone. Hell, it was a miracle that we found each other at all, and I'm gonna bet that we won't have another one of those again. I'm done with wandering around with no family or purpose, I'm not leaving here until I'm a full member of the hundred fourth."

He glanced over to Eren, "Even if it kills me."

Mikasa's arms wrapped around him in a gentle hug, before she let go and walked back to stand beside Eren. She stared at the floor, taking in the glass that crunched under her feet, and whispered quietly, "...I approve."

Eren let out a deep sigh, then waved Annie forward, "Let's get this over with."

Annie took a step back from the kid, and readied her stance once again. Armin stood ramrod straight, his fist clenched and his eyes closed tightly. Another dagger of guilt stabbed into her as she planned her first strike.

She didn't want to do this, and honestly if circumstances were different she'd probably have dragged the kid out by the scruff of his neck without looking back. But she was stuck here, and she wasn't about let any chance of survival slip through fingers.

 _I... I'm really, **really** sorry about this, kid._

The thought didn't make her feel any better as she struck him for first time, her fist connecting squarely with his gut.

Armin's eyes widened in pain and shock, but she didn't give him the chance to recover. She rained down blows on his back, stomach, and torso. Each impact knocking him about like a puppet. Shed kicked him to the floor, where he curled into a ball, desperately protecting his head.

Annie hesitated for a split second, before burying her feelings and continued the initiation.

She worked him over, her boots leaving vivid, black bruises as she repeatedly stomped on him. Every time he tried to avoid a blow, she'd kick him harder, making sure to keep her face neutral as she did so. It was was important for the gang to see that she wasn't soft, that she wouldn't hold back when push comes to shove. Plus, now was the perfect chance to discourage anyone from suspecting her of being a cop. Thankfully, Armin stayed quiet during the beating, save a few pained yelps. She was deeply grateful for his silence, it would have been a lot harder to act cool and indifferent if he had been screaming.

All around her, gangsters watched in morbid fascination. A few of them- including Jean and Krista- pushed their way through the crowd and out the door, each one of them averting their eyes from the beating. Others talked amongst themselves and debated the finer points of the beating, like wondering how Annie could seem so bored or how Armin looked like he was about die in any second. On the other side of the room, Sasha buried her face in Connie's chest, her tiny whimpers muffled by the denim of his jacket.

The seconds ticked by, uncaring and unhurried.

"Enough!" Eren commanded, stepping forward between Annie and her volunteer punching-bag, "Time's up now."

Annie immediately put some space between herself and the others, apprehensively standing on the sidelines as Mikasa helped a badly bruised and bleeding Armin to his feet. Annie took one look at the kid and averted her eyes, she had done a number on him that's for sure.

"What's the verdict?" She demanded, wincing as she rubbed her aching knuckles, "Am I in?"

Jaeger spat on the floor, adding even more red to the blood-slick floor, and growled, "Sure. Congratu-fucking-lations."

"Thanks." She replied coldly, hatefuly. She pointed to Armin, "What about him? He's still standi- Woah!"

Annie just barely managed to jump out of way as Armin clutched at his stomach and a stream of crimson spewed from his mouth, his eyes rolling back in his head before he slipped into unconsciousness.

"Oh shit! Armin!" Mikasa swore, she lowered his limp body to the floor, kneeled with him and placed to fingers on his neck, "Eren, I got a pulse! Marco, get over here _now_!"

The freckled doctor was beside him before Mikasa even finished her sentence, and he immediately pulled up Armin's shirt. One gangster gagged at the sight, his chest and side swollen beyond recognition. Deep dark bruises decorated every inch of his skin.

The gang boss stood quietly for a moment, observing the damage down to his foster brother. A second later his head shot up, and Eren scowled harshly at the bystanding crowd, "The fuck you rubberneckers looking at?! Show's over, get your bitch asses out of here!"

The gangsters jumped to comply with his order, hurriedly shuffling out through the exits. The room was empty in seconds, leaving only Marco, Mikasa, and Eren kneeling beside Armin, and Annie standing alone behind them.

"It should be safe to move him, I need to get him to the guest room." Marco reported, looking deeply disturbed as he examined his injuries, "It looks worse than it really is but we need to get his swelling under control and test his lungs for any injuries." Everyone in the room let out a sigh at his diagnosis. Armin was going to be Ok.

 _I guess this could have been worse. I… I need a shower and a drink._

"I'll get him." Eren said softly, bending low and carefully scooping Armin's body into his arms. He held him with gentleness that belied his earlier violence.

The group began walking out of the room, and Annie followed behind. Jaeger noticed and cast glance over his shoulder at her, "Where the fuck are you going?"

 _Fuck, what now?_

She stopped in her tracks, "I'm a member now. I thought I was free to go."

"You thought wrong. This garage is a mess. Clean it, rookie." He ordered, and walking out of the room, "Welcome to the hundred fourth."

Annie blinked in surprise, then surveyed the aftermath surrounding her. Trash, empty beer bottles, and fast food covered the entire garage floor. Except for the patches that were nothing but shallow pools of blood and shattered glass.

Her shoulders slumped in defeat, she let out a deep tired sigh and begun searching for a mop.

* * *

 **Jump In*- Slang term for a type of gang initiation which involves the prospect being beaten to prove their dedication. Many variants exist, such as having to collect pennies from the floor while being beaten.**

 **Orthodox Boxing Stance*- O** **rthodox stance is one in which the boxer places his left foot farther in front of the right foot, thus having his weaker side closer to the opponent.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Attack on Titan or its characters. Nor do I own anything in New York City.**

 **Hello again, lovely readers and I hope you enjoyed this extra long chapter! I'll continue to re-edit the last few chapters so they match my new format but I'm already working on the next chapter which is going to have some more Armin-Annie interaction plus shine the spot light on Jean for a little while. Please leave a review if you feel inclined, they literally make my day when I get them!**

 **Guest: Thanks man, nice to see you checking up on the story now and again. We gotta play some more PUBG.**

 **taku-mune: Thanks so much for the kind words! I'm happy that I can write this characters well, as I love and adore almost all of them. And though my storylines won't be anywhere as good as Mr. Hajime Isayama's canon (seriously I just finished the 21st Manga and I'm stunned by his skill), I hope it will be entertaining and shocking in equal measure.**


	8. Who You Know

_**Writer's note: This chapter was a right bastard to write. Normally I wouldn't post anything without having checked over by my editor but I set a deadline and here it is. Taadaa! *Jazz Hands***_

 _ **Edit: I have edited the damn thing.**_

* * *

 _ **Wednesday 18:30, March 1st… Minuteman Motel, Manhattan**_

* * *

Annie fidgeted idly with the bandage covering her hand, the cut had stopped bleeding last night but she still winced in pain every time she tried to use it. Honestly, the discomfort was getting on her nerves. She roundly cursed her new lieutenant with every harsh word she could think of as another lance of pain shot through it.

"You alright there?" Bertholdt asked with concern from across the room.

Annie nodded and continued on with her fidgeting. She felt nervous, uncomfortable, and just all around shitty since the initiation. Her head hurt, her knuckles ached, and she couldn't shake the fatigue that had her wrapped in its foggy embrace. She glanced behind her, looking back with ill-concealed longing at the only bed in the room.

 _Is a few more hours of sleep really that much to ask for?_

"Let's get this over with already." She said, "The one-oh-four will get suspicious if I'm gone for too long."

"I know." Bertholdt agreed, his eyes not moving from the laptop he was working on, "But we have to wait until Reiner gets back before we can start."

Annie's blank questioning look told him exactly what she was thinking when he glanced up at her.

She noticed a drop of sweat escape his hairline and run down his forehead as the tall agent cleared his throat, "...Um… I can't debrief a female CI without another agent in the room, so…"

The blonde huffed in annoyance. So that's the reason she had to be left waiting? "I may be just a CI right now, but I never _officially_ resigned from the FBI. Dok only had my name temporary wiped from the system. So you don't have to treat me like an uncooperative witness."

Bertholdt cleaned away another bead of sweat, "He also took your gun and badge. And I did more than just wipe your name, I wiped literally every mention of you from our servers, so technically speaking you never were…" He stopped talking when Annie sent him a glare that speared his soul to the wall behind him.

And at that exact moment, Reiner pushed open her motel room door and strode inside, carrying a massive pizza in one hand and a bouquet of drinks in the other. He glanced at his partner cowering at the desk and followed his gaze back to the all-around unhappy Annie.

"Damn Bert, what'dya say while I was gone?" He said, a good-natured smirk on his lips.

He turned his smile to Annie, "Coffee?" He asked, offering her one of the cups from the holder.

 _Almost as good as sleep. At least for a little while._

Annie nodded, glaring at Bertholdt again for good measure, and accepted the steaming beverage. She took a sip, suddenly thankful as warmth spread across her body. She hated being cold, more than most other things.

"I take it things were a bit rough last night." Reiner said, sitting himself down next to Bertholdt, and helping himself to some pizza.

"What tipped you off?" Annie mumbled sarcastically.

"The massive bruise on your jaw. And your hands look like you punched a brick wall. Repeatedly." In response to her silence the muscular man offered Annie a slice of pizza, which she waved away, before continuing, "Have you even showered since you got back?"

She shook her head, she had been too tired to do anything but lock the door and collapse on top of the motels cheap bed when she arrived. The pairs arrival came as an unwelcome wake up call for her.

"You ready to start the debriefing?" Reiner asked.

 _I've been ready for the past hour, jackass._

She nodded for him to start, too busy sipping from her cup to answer verbally.

"Alright then. Bert?" Reiner turned to his partner, who spun the laptop around so that the onboard video camera was pointed directly at her. Flashing a thumbs up to Annie, he hit the record key.

"State your name and CI number."

Annie took another sip before answering, "Annie Leonhardt. CI number one-six-zero-zero-one."

"Excellent. Now, let's start from the top." Reiner pulled out his phone and begun reading from a list of questions, "You are here to submit a report on the New York City street gang known as the Hundred-Fourth, correct?"

"Yes."

"And are you currently a member of the Hundred-Fourth?"

Annie hesitated. She ran her fingers down the length of her cup and, with one final bored shrug, she nodded.

"I am."

"Can you describe the circumstances of your recruitment into the gang?"

"I robbed one of their money laundering operations and left a message behind to advertise myself as a potential member. Later I met with their leader and agreed to be 'jumped in' the next night."

Reiner looked at Bertholdt, and the taller agent flashed both of the blondes a thumbs up. Reiner turned back to Annie and gave her a polite nod, "Alright Leonhardt, the niceties are over. Dok wants us to get as much information about the gang as possible. Could you describe the events of the initiation, starting from the beginning."

The heat from the coffee made her cut tingle pleasantly, albert somewhat painfully. She took another sip before she answered, going over most of the events that had transpired while she was inside. She talked about sharing a beer with a new recruit, then she explained how the rest of the gang had been waiting for them in the garage. Bertholdt's eyebrows shot up in surprise when Annie told them about how she had gone toe-to-toe with Jaeger; she also noticed a deep frown appeared on Reiner's face when she revealed that her new boss held her at gunpoint for while.

She did however, decide to skip the part about how she beat the living shit out the blond recruit that saved her in a fucked up test for acceptance into the gang. It wouldn't look good if that little detail came up in court.

"Good work, Leonhardt! Agent Dok is gonna be ecstatic when me and Bert tell him!" Reiner bit of a mouthful of pizza, his jaw working overtime as he powered through the slice.

"Are we finished?" Annie muttered, her eyelids were starting droop from fatigue and her well of patience had long since gone dry.

"Last part, we just need you to tell us about the hundred fourth's members." He said, "You know, anybody that caught your eye or somebody you think would be of particular interest to the case. So we know who to focus our investigation on."

"...Got it." Annie looked back at the camera, her tone turning flinty as she spoke, "Person of interest number one: Eren Jaeger."

"No shit. He's the leader."

"There's more to him. The man's a psychopath who tried to kill me during the initiation. He pistol-whipped me and held me at gunpoint during the fight. He's extremely unstable, he reacted violently every time someone got in his way. He even attacked one of his guys to make a point." She felt her hands clench, almost squeezing the coffee out of the cup, "Jaeger's a problem. He doesn't trust me at all and he thinks I'm a threat to his leadership. Especially since I kicked his ass."

"Is he planning on getting rid of you?" Reiner asked.

Annie shrugged, "...Probably... He did tell me to show up at the Freedom later tonight."

"We can call Dok. See if we can't get you set up in a safe house or if we can pull some OT* for surveillance-"

"Forget it." She shook her head vehemently, her bangs waving limply back and forth in time with her movements, "I can't risk having you guys giving me away. If they catch any hint of this op, I'll be laying on a morgue slab before the sun comes up."

Berthold snorted and rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, he looked a little deflated by Annie's lack of faith in their abilities. She could tell that her handlers were champing at the bit to finally see some real action again, working a dead-end case for so long had probably turned both of them stir crazy in Annie's opinion. And the last thing she needed was to be followed by two of the most obvious cops she'd ever seen.

 _Well, Agent Hoover isn't THAT obvious, but Agent Braun looks like an extra from 'Men in Black'. Still, they bring up a good point, I shouldn't take anymore unnecessary risks…_

Suddenly, an idea popped into her head; one that was just underhanded enough to work.

She finished her coffee and ran her hand through her hair, wincing when her slim fingers caught onto a knot, "I have an idea on how to stay out of his crosshairs. One that won't giveaway my cover."

The two male agents shared a look with each other, their interest piqued. Bertholdt tapped the top of his laptop lightly with his pen, a reminder that she was still being recorded.

"The new member of the gang I met before the initiation, he could be useful."

"This guy have a name?"

"...Armin." She reported softly, "I didn't catch his last name."

"And you think he'd help you cosy up to Jaeger. Why?" Bertholdt was clearly less than impressed with her plan.

Annie fell into a thoughtful silence, she really didn't know how Armin would react if she came to him asking for a favor. Hell, in under an hour she managed to not only beat the ever-loving shit out of him but also throw his membership within the gang into question. He probably wanted nothing to do with her, and she certainly wouldn't trust him to leap to her defense everytime his-their- boss threatened to shoot her.

But on the other hand… He did save her life, for reasons that she couldn't even begin to fathom.

 _It's not like it was MY idea to almost kill him, that was Jaeger's fault. It's not like he gave me any choice… Armin would do the same if he were in my shoes…_

Annie chuckled dryly. Her job was full of surprises, but she ranked Armin confronting his psycho boss to be in the top five, maybe even in the top three. "The kid has influence over Jaeger, got him to reconsider blowing my brains out. The two are childhood friends apparently."

"Oh I got you!" Bertholdt exclaimed, "You want to use this guy as leverage to dissuade any assassination attempts."

Reiner nodded excitedly, "Jaeger isn't going to kill someone close to his friend. It could destroy his relationship with the guy. So you'll have enough time to make yourself appear loyal and embed yourself within the gang until we get enough evidence to put them away. Looks like we have a game plan."

 _Yeah, let's hope he still wants to help me._

Reiner reached out and slapped the laptop closed, ending the recording. He and Bertholdt stood up from their seats and begun gathering their possessions. Annie watched idly, her earlier exhaustion had somehow compounded during the short conversation and the coffee wasn't able to keep her focus sharp anymore.

She pushed herself to her feet and escorted the two out of her room. She was about to shut the door when Reiner's gruff, booming voice caught her attention.

"What?" She said, quizzically staring at the two agents.

Reiner exchanged looks with Bertholdt before answering, "I was saying that you should try to be a little friendlier with that new guy. It sounds like he likes you so try and keep it that way."

Annie's glare lacked much of its usual edge; and Reiner just shrugged before throwing out one last remark with a cheeky grin, "Hey, you never know; he could be into blondes!"

Annie slammed the door in his face.

* * *

 _ **Wednesday 21:30, March 1st… The Ramble, Central Park**_

* * *

If pacing was accepted as a sport, Hitch would have been given an honorary gold medal for her recent performance. For the past two hours she had done nothing but pace up and down the forested footpath, sometimes lighting up and sucking down a quick cigarette to keep her energy up like an athlete chugging water.

The sky had long ago turned dark and the wind was doing its best to make up for a snowless winter by creating a frigid spring. Water droplets fell from every tree, covering the ground with puddles just deep enough to splash onto the socks of anyone who stepped in one. Hitch wrapped her jacket tighter around herself and blew out another lungful of smoke, the hot fumes mixed perfectly with her condensed breath, creating an almost glowing aura around her head.

Jean was late. Hitch felt a little bit… _miffed_ about that. She hadn't gone through all the trouble of swallowing her pride and better judgement to be stood up in a mini-forest. He could have at least suggested a nicer place to meet, maybe a coffee shop or a deli. Someplace that was legally required to have a heater.

 _That's it! If that fucking yuppie motherfucker doesn't show up in the next five minutes-_

"Good evening, Miss Dresye."

"AHHHH!"

Hitch jumped in surprise. The sudden movement made her feet slip on the slick concrete and she pitched forward, her arms flailing like a windmill caught in a hurricane. She would have tumbled face first off the path, and utterly destroyed her favorite jacket, if her new companion hadn't grabbed Hitch by her belt and pulled with all his might. She yelped when her momentum was suddenly reversed and she landed clumsily against her rescuer, her back against his chest.

She looked straight up at him, Hitch's confused amber eyes met Jean's startled brown ones. The two stood in awkward silence, neither the police officer or the con-artist knew what to say.

And then Hitch burst out laughing.

"What the…?" Jean gasped, spinning her around by her shoulders and holding her out at arms length as if she was a ticking time bomb.

Hitch couldn't help herself, she watched too many romantic comedies in her life to not find the whole situation hilariously ridiculous. And she was ok with it. For the first time in a month, Hitch felt composed enough to actually, genuinely laugh. So she did, she laughed until her knees felt weak and she slowly begun to crumple to the ground, the laughter overwhelming her completely.

"Dreyse! Are you ok? What's so funny? Why are you laughing?!" Jean demanded, he looped one arm around her midriff to help steady her but that only made the cop shriek with even more laughter.

She buried her face in his shirt, her guffaws cutting off as her sides screamed for air. In between snorts and deep painting breaths she managed to gasp out, in the closest thing that she could call a singing voice, "I-I...just died in...your arms... _toooniiiight_!"

Jean blinked for a confused moment before the reference caught up to him, a huge smile appeared on his face and deep chuckles rolled out of him. Hitch giggled along with him and their private joke spurred them on until they were roaring hysterically together, their few moments of ridiculousness safely hidden from others by the uncaring dark woods. They laughed until they coudn't, the need for air became the more pressing issue.

Jean shook his head to clear his thoughts, the smile still alive on his face, "Jesus christ, Hitch. I… I wasn't expecting that."

"Sorry, it kinda just popped into my head after you caught me. Guess I've been watching too many movies, I couldn't help it." Hitch snickered, took a deep calming breath, then tapped his arm lightly which was still wrapped around her, "You got a real strong grip there, Jean."

Jean nodded knowingly, not at all embarrassed by his invasion of personal space, "I work out twice a week. Sometimes I wish I could spend more time practicing the arts but…" He sighed dramatically, tightly closing his eyes in mock pain, "Sculpting a body like my own is an art onto itself."

"Wow, that was probably the smuggest sentence I've ever heard." Hitch snorted again, "And this coming from someone who used to walk the SoHo beat."

"I own an apartment there!" Jean told her, which brought another laugh out of Hitch.

"Do you-hehehe- Do you practise tantric yoga too?" She asked through her giggles.

Jean looked her dead in the eyes and, with as much seriousness as he could muster, whispered, " _Vegan_ tantric yoga."

It was a good thing that Jean had kept his arm around her, because after that declaration she nearly collapsed with laughter. He held on to her for a few more seconds before she mellowed and pushed herself away, snickering to herself.

 _That was… fun, actually. I think that was the most fun I had since… Hold on._

Hitch looked up at Jean, a shade of sadness coloring the amber of her eyes; she knew that he saw it too. Their moment of levity had passed. Reality was knocking at her door.

 _Don't drop your guard Hitch, you're talking to a criminal right now. Act like it._

"So, I thought about your offer." She made sure to keep her voice steady and dry as she popped a cigarette in her mouth.

"And?"

"I have a few questions and honestly... I got a whole damn truckload of concerns." She lit up, inhaling the invigorating fumes with relish.

Jean nodded, not in the least bit surprised about her reservations, "Let's hear them then."

"Well first off, what happens if your buddies go overboard and kill somebody? I'm not going to help your friends cover up someone's murder." Hitch's look hardened at the thought.

Jean thought for a moment, then frowned, "We'd only harm someone if they were directly supporting the titans in some-"

"What do you mean supporting?" Hitch demanded, "I thought titans- ugh, _ate_ people. Why the hell would anybody help them?!"

"To be honest with you… I have no fucking clue." Jean admitted, "But people do. My colleagues often encounter groups of criminals that at least claim to work for them. Like a gang or a cult of somesort. They act like a middle man for the actual titans."

 _Holy shit… It just doesn't stop getting worse, does it?_

Jean continued solemnly, "We've had some… unpleasant confrontations with their human allies. Most of the time the only option we have is to, well, deal with them."

"And by deal with them you mean kill them, right?"

"That wouldn't be inaccurate." He confessed, then followed up with a nonchalant, "In our defense, they don't give us a choice."

She unconsciously worried at her lip, and quietly asked, "How do you find them? The Titans I mean."

Jean shook his head apologetically, "Sorry, Officer. I can't tell you. Trade secret."

Hitch's face twisted in a grimace, and she suddenly felt completely out of her depth. Her job was to catch murderers, not cover for them. In her mind Jean didn't seem like a bad person, and they shared similar goals when it came to the Titans, but she couldn't shake the feeling that this whole thing would blow up in her face spectacularly. She was getting involved with people that would screw her over in a heartbeat to save their own skin, 'cause there weren't many things that could pad a plea deal like naming a corrupt cop.

She was about to refuse the gangster's offer, when she heard loud footsteps coming from down the path. She turned to see who could be in the Ramble at this time of night. The footsteps got closer, and she could tell that Jean had also noticed the unwanted interruption.

Then a loud hum echoed through the air. The sound hit her like a wave of ice water, waking something dark and painful inside.

* * *

 _She was back in the empty lot, rain pouring down around her shaking form. The iron scent of blood saturated the air around her._

 _Her monster stood a mere arms length away, unnaturally tall and emaciated. It towered over her, its long greasy hair hung limply off of its head like a waterfall of raw oil. It reached out, the humming getting louder and deeper, its wirelike fingers curling around her arm..._

* * *

Hitch gasped for breath, her heart racing as she tried to collect her thoughts. She bent forward slightly, bracing her hands against her knees and tried her best to breath at a steady pace. Which was difficult, seeing as she was close to hyperventilating at that moment.

 _Fuck… it happened again..._

"Hitch! Are you back?" Jean stared at her in equal parts concern and sympathy, he reached out and placed his hand gently on her shoulder.

"Who was-" She hiccuped loudly, "Who was humming?"

"A woman was jogging with her dog. Are you Ok?"

"I'm fine!" Hitch spat out and knocked his hand away, "Just a little dizzy."

Jean didn't seem to take offense at her spiny response, instead he waited for the cop to finish recovering. He glanced down the path again and thought for a moment.

"Hey, walk with me for a bit." He suggested, "I know a place we could get some good coffee nearby."

Hitch, feeling a little bit more stable, straightened out to her full height and huffed dismissively, "Ugh, no thanks. Everything around here is expensive as hell."

"I'll pay, I owe you for showing up late." He winked at her, "And my grand-mère would kill me if I didn't pay for you anyway."

"Stop the presses, chivalry isn't dead." Hitch drawled sarcastically, adding an over exaggerated eye-roll for effect. She was starting to feel like her old self again.

 _I should just go, but it's late and I AM kind of thirsty. Eh, fuck it. Nobody can indict for me for just having coffee with a gangster._

She started walking down the path, "It better be good stuff though, I'm not gonna put up with dollar store shit." She added half-heartedly to Jean when the man caught up with her.

He snorted lightly, "I'd never even dream of it."

The pair walked shoulder-to-shoulder down the twisting concrete footpath for a few minutes, before Jean spoke up.

"That episode you had back there. It took you back to the lot, didn't it?" His voice was clear but unassuming, as if he had just asked her when her birthday was or something.

Hitch inhaled quickly, her earlier distrust rising to the forefront of her thinking. She mentally swore at herself for freaking out like that in front of him. The last thing she needed was for someone else to know about those flashbacks. She hadn't even told her parents about them.

 _The hell am I supposed to say?! 'No actually I just freaked out like that because I'm terrified of humming in general.' Nobody would buy that shit._

So she just sighed in defeat, "So what if it did?"

Jean stayed quiet for a while before answering, "Correct me if I'm wrong but don't police officers have to pass a psych evaluation after an event like that?"

Great, now even the criminals thought she was crazy. She wasn't made of glass, god damn it. "Something like that." She hissed, bristling with frustration.

"I also assume that, you yourself, had to take that evaluation after what happened to you and your partner." His tone started to turn accusatory, "And judging by how you reacted to that jogger..."

Hitch's steps halted suddenly, forcing Jean to stop walking and face her. "If you got something smart to say, then just hurry up and say it already."

The gangster inspected her for a moment, then stated, "You were kicked off the force weren't you?"

 _Fuck you, you horse-faced bastard. Fuck you._

"Piss off. I haven't been canned yet, dickhead." The words threw themselves out of her mouth before her brain could catch them, and she could tell that Jean had already picked up on her mistake.

"Yet?" He cocked his head to the side and waited for her to answer.

She decided to stonewall him instead, "How the fuck is this any of your business?"

"Because I can stop that from happening." He promised simply.

Hitch snorted scornfully, not believing him in the least, "Yeah? How the hell are you gonna do that?"

"By asking a friend." He replied, somehow he had managed to pull out his phone without Hitch noticing. He unlocked it, dialed a number, then waited for patiently for his friend to pick up.

 _How dumb does he think I am? No way he has that kind of reach._

"Hello? Hey! Good to hear your voice, _Ma pettite chou..._ Yes, I know it's late but I got a favor to ask of you... You guessed it." He smiled at Hitch, who was staring at him in slack jawed shock, "Dreyse…Mmhmm... Thank you, _à la semaine prochaine_."

 _No. Fucking. Way._

Jean hung up the phone and grinned broadly at her, his arms spread out wide as if he just performed an astounding magic trick, "Congratulations officer Dreyse, you're about to be cleared for duty!"

 _Oh. Ok... HOW THE FUCK?!_

"How…? Who?!" Hitch was left spluttering in disbelief and shock.

Jean chuckled, wearing a smile that was somewhere between 'charming' and 'smarmy', "That's for me to know and for you to not worry about."

The blindsided Hitch hectically searched for something to say, half of her wanted to hug the taller man and thank him for saving her career while her more rational half was doing nothing but swinging giant red flags inside her brain.

Finally her skeptical side won out in the end, "You didn't do that to get me to help you, did you?"

"Of course not! That would be unethical for both of us." Jean managed to get that sentence out without choking on the sarcasm, before his light-hearted demeanor turned serious, "I'm not trying to screw you here, Hitch. People are in danger, and we both know the authorities aren't going to do shit until the whole city is up shit creek. You have a chance to do some good in the world, that's a pretty rare opportunity."

Hitch bit her up in contemplation, her gut instinct still screaming at her to just walk away. She knew he was right, nobody at the precinct would believe her and she as hell couldn't tell the media about it. She'd get locked away in some psych ward.

 _The titans are still out there, if I just sit on my ass then we're all fucked. Damn it, I knew I should have picked an easier job!_

"Fine, I'll help you and your buddies out for a while but only with the Titans." She frowned at him and crossed her arms across her chest, "I'm not gonna cover up any gangland bullshit. Got it?"

"Loud and clear." Jean smiled brightly at her, "Welcome to the team, partner."

 _This is going to be weird..._

"...Thanks."

Jean grabbed Hitch by the arm and started leading her down the path, "C'mon we can hash out the details over that coffee I promised you."

* * *

 _ **Thursday 02:00, March 2nd… Wings of Freedom Bar & Tavern, The Bronx**_

* * *

Armin gasped in pain as Marco unwrapped the gauze from around his torso, the freckled doctor apologized quietly before examining the damage. Armin glanced down once and got an eyeful of his angry purple flesh.

 _I shoudn't have looked!_

"How bad-ow!- how bad is it?" Armin closed his eyes, focusing in on breathing steadily, every breath becoming a chore for him. For a moment the guest room of the _Freedom_ began to blur, he clenched his teeth and focused his vision on a single point until his surroundings came back into focus. "It looks pretty bad."

Marco smiled at him calmly as he continued working, but Armin saw the exhaustion in the young doctor's eyes. "You're probably not going to believe me but it actually looks alot worse than it is. The blood in your vomit came from your mouth, you bit your tongue quite deeply."

The blond sighed in poorly concealed relief, "That's good."

"It is. You got lucky, Armin. As far as I can tell, she wasn't able to re-break any of your ribs and she didn't kick your head around too hard so I think we can rule out a concussion. Unless of course you're feeling lightheaded or dizzy?"

"No. I'm a little nauseous and my chest feels like it's on fire though."

Marco patted him on the shoulder and stood up from his chair, "I can offer you some painkillers to help you sleep but the bruising will have to go down by itself. Do you want any Analgesics*?"

"No, I'm fine." The words left his mouth out of habit, "I just want to get something to eat and clear my head for a while."

"Alright." Marco gave him an odd look, before stretching his arms over his head, "It's a bit late for dinner but I'm sure I can heat something up for you."

Armin- with Marco's help- stood up from the bed and slipped his shirt back on before replying, "Thank you, but I'll be Ok. You should head home and get some sleep."

A yawn escaped the doctor's mouth, "I'll crash here for now. I need to check on my supplies in the morning anyway."

A quiet silence spread through the room before Armin limped to the door and pushed it open.

He glanced down the hall to his right, where the door to the garage stood, and thought back to the initiation. He hadn't realized how much his best friend had changed since they last touch years ago. Eren had always been hot-headed and prone to violence but he had never been… cruel. In fact, a younger Eren would probably have stepped up to protect someone from the cruelty he had displayed. Armin couldn't wrap his head around the idea that his best friend had changed so profoundly.

He glanced over his shoulder, wanting to bid Marco good night, but the tall freckled man had thrown himself onto the bed and was already fast asleep. Armin quietly shut the door behind himself and begun his slow walk to the kitchen.

His torso complained vigorously at the constant movement, but after he made it down the hall his body decided to save its energy and the pain faded into a dull ache, finally allowing the skinny blond a moment to concentrate on satisfying his other needs, hunger first and time alone second. He finally arrived at his destination and glanced around in tired confusion.

 _Krista's gotta have some canned food in here, maybe some instant ramen or something._

The Freedom's kitchen wasn't the largest or the most elaborate he'd ever seen, it barely had enough room in it for a table and the freezer door was a prick to open but it was clean, warm, and most importantly, full of food.

Armin wiped the fatigue from his eyes, and mumbled, "Where does Krista keep the soup, again?"

"Up in the pantry."

The flat, dispassionate voice almost made him bite his tongue out of surprise. He spun around and instantly regretted it, the sudden movement lit his entire side with fierly agony. One of his hands snaked around his waist, trying in vain to stop the pain at its source.

He felt hands on him, holding him up and steadying him. He looked up to see Annie Leonhardt standing in front of him. A wave of momentaly fear ran through his body, sharpening his pain.

"S-s-sorry!" He squeaked, immediately falling back to his old habit of apologizing without thinking about it, "I-"

"Stop talking." Came the terse reply.

Armin winced when Annie's hand found his side, and he almost yelped when she pressed her fingers to his injuries. Her eyes shot up to meet his, the look on her face almost apologetic.

"Don't move." She ordered, before she stepped out of his sight. A moment later she came back holding a towel-wrapped ice pack in her hand. She handed the blue bundle over to him and Armin wasted no time holding the freezing thing against his injuries, the cold sapping away the pain.

"Thanks, that helps." Armin reported, closing his eyes in relief.

"What are you doing here?" Annie asked, her brow arching with curiosity.

"I-I was getting something to eat." He stared at her, well down at her, and gave her an odd look. "Why are you here?"

"Doesn't matter." She gestured over to the tiny wooden table in the corner, "Take a seat, I'll make you something."

"Oh, you don't have to-"

"Shut up and sit down before you pass out, kid."

Having been given no other choice Armin took a seat at the table, one hand holding the ice pack to his side. He watched awkwardly while his confusing new coworker busied herself with microwaving a bowl of canned soup. Annie worked in almost complete silence and didn't even acknowledge his presence, but Armin couldn't help but notice how she favored her off-hand and how out of place the bruise on her jaw looked.

 _She looks… worse for wear. What's she doing at the Freedom this late? Did Eren call her?_

He must have zoned out again, because the next thing he knew a bowl of chicken noodle soup appeared in front of him, with the chef in question now sitting across from him and staring at him expectantly.

He shot her a grateful look with a smile on his lips as he prepared to eat.

* * *

Annie hated this. She watched from under her curtain of light blonde hair as the kid struggled to lift a spoon to his mouth without wincing in pain. A trickle of guilt bled into her brain and stained it; she remembered how Armin had vouched for her in the initiation and then been forced to pay the price for it. And in her own detached way, she felt gratitude toward for that. However, her gratitude wouldn't keep his name out of her CI reports and it certantly didn't diminish her suspicions of his true intentions.

Armin cleared his throat after finishing his meal, "Thank you. I don't how I would have used the can opener if you hadn't-"

"Didn't I tell you last time to quit while you were still ahead?" She interrupted him, voice empty and eyes cold.

Her companion nodded timidly.

"Why didn't you?"

Armin's shoulder slumped, his mouth opened for a second but no words came out. Finally he managed to mumble, "What Eren tried to do… It didn't feel right."

"So if it felt right you'd have let it happen?" The words slithered out of her mouth without her even thinking about it. He was hiding the reason from her, and her investigative instincts kicked in full force. She wanted to know, she wanted to know why a complete stranger would ostracize himself from his friends and family, and risk his own safety just to protect her. It didn't make _sense_.

"No!" Armin stared at her with such a look of distress that Annie felt her heart skip a beat. She had hit a nerve. A raw one.

"Even if I deserved it?" She was pushing him away from her, she could tell. She was doing the exact fucking opposite of what she should have been doing. There was no point in playing one-sided mind games with someone she needed to have in her corner, so why the hell didn't she stop?

Honestly she had started off the encounter perfectly: got him an ice pack, made him a meal. She had started to build a rapport with the newly minted gangster. Her next move should have been to thank him for saving her ass, not prod his brain with an emotional scalpel. But she wanted to know why, so she kept going.

 _He's probably going to give me some bullshit answer, or he's just looking for an new ally. Or maybe Reiner was right and he's just really into blondes..._

"You didn't deserve that." He whispered quietly, "I knew that much."

 _Called it. Bullshit it is then._

She snorted in cynical amusement, her tone became dismissive and mocking, "So you decided to play the fucking hero and save me from big bad Jaeger, is that right?"

Armin hung his head and rested his hands in his lap, his bangs hiding him from her piercing gaze, "...I guess."

Seeing him recoil into himself made her stomach twist for some reason, yet she still didn't have a satisfactory answer to her question and the kid was starting to shut down. The smart move would be to drop it, thank him, and revisit this avenue at a later date after she repaired the damage. Or she could double down and call him on his bullshit.

Annie stood up from her seat and pulled the table away from him, then planted her hands on the armrests on either side of him. She stared directly into his huge frightened eyes, their faces less than a foot away, before she whispered, "Try again, kid. Honesty's a virtue with me."

"I was being honest!"

She cocked her head, "You sure? There's no tiny little ulterior motive sneaking around inside that skull of yours?"

"..." Armin's silence was all the confirmation that she needed. He wanted something from her, all she had to do now was find out what and come up with an arrangement that suited both of them.

Armin took a deep breath, and sat higher in his chair.

"I wasn't lying before… but there is another reason." He stated quietly, he glanced away for a moment before meeting her eyes again, "I thought I could… I thought I could stop Eren from making a choice that he would regret."

 _He saved me… to help Jaeger?_

Annie straightened herself up and stood over him, touching one hand to her chin in thought.

Armin took her body language as prompting for him to continue, "I know this sounds stupid, but the Eren I know was never that cruel and, I really don't think he was fully in control of his actions when he-" He paused for a second, flinching at someone unseen memory, "Did what he did. You don't have to believe me when I say this, but the main reason I decided to help you was to save Eren from killing a good person. I don't think he would be able to handle that."

Annie didn't say a word after he finished, she stood unmoving and processed what Armin told her. She couldn't understand how someone could have seen and felt the things he had, and still come up with such a poorly crafted lie. It's was almost like he had crafted every part that explanation to be _wrong_.

Unless…

She glanced down at him, her icely orbs searching through his ocean blue ones.

 _He isn't lying._

A titter rose from the back of her throat, only barely escaping from behind her closed lips. Her laugh had been hushed and almost soundless, but the ones that followed weren't. She turned away, shaking her head dismissively and trying to muffle her soft snickering with one hand. She coudn't believe this.

"Annie? Why are you laughing?" Armin voice came from behind her, mired with confusion.

"You really want to know?" She asked, the tops of her lips curing into an almost invisible smile.

"Yes?"

She pivoted back to face him, and let out a mocking snort, "I'm laughing because you are either worst lair in the world, or you are so fucking naive and blind that you can't see what's really going on in front of you. And I find that funny."

She cocked her head, eyes bright with ridicule, "You really think your precious foster brother gives a shit about killing good people? Huh? Jaeger wouldn't think twice about offing anybody that gets in his way."

"Your-"

"Holy fucking shit, kid! Do you know where you are? Do you know what you're a part of now? Is the seriousness of the situation so fucking overwhelming that you just can't process it or did you get brain damage when Jaeger made me beat the fuck out of you?!"

An unusual emotion swept across the boy's face. Annie couldn't place it, she was too busy venting her frustrations out on him. More than anything now, she wanted him to understood how utterly _fucked_ he was. He'd signed on with a gang of violent criminals because he had deluded himself into believing his family hadn't changed since his childhood.

"What do you think the hundred fourth is?! It's a fucking _gang,_ kid! One day Jaeger is going to put a gun in your hand and then it'll be you out there putting holes in people, not him!" She stopped for a moment, and another snicker left her, "Fuck… You know what? Forget that last part, Jaeger got one thing right about you… You don't have the stomach for any of that shit."

She looked over at him, saw how he had stood from his chair while she had been distracted and she saw that flash of emotion again. She recognized it now. It was anger.

"Did you get everything off your chest?" Armin asked her, his voice tight, "Do you feel better now? Or do you want to kick me around some more, really hammer in your point?"

Annie shook her head, another trickle of guilt sliding into her pool. She shouldn't have mocked Armin, he wasn't stupid. He was just one of those people that insisted on seeing the good in things. Who was she to burst his bubble? The world would have done that eventually with or without her help, so why did she want to expedite it?

Armin swallowed bitterly before continuing, "You know, I may not have as much experience as you do and I'm nowhere near as skilled as you or as scary. But guess what? If we were back in that circle again, and I had the choice to do it differently, I wouldn't change a fucking thing."

He let out an exhausted sigh and idiley placed a hand on his side, "I would do it again because I think that there's a chance that one day you could be a good person to someone besides yourself, and I don't want my best friend to carry the guilt of snuffing out that chance."

The injured blond let out a calming breath, and suddenly the anger disappeared from his face, "Sorry. I-uh. I should go get some rest. Thanks for the soup."

Apparently he outclassed her in manners too. She leaned back against the table, her palms flat on the wooden surface. Annie watched as her latest victim stumbled towards the door. She didn't understand his loyalty to a psychopath that put both of them through hell, but she respected his decisions and his willingness to reach out to people. He made it seem so easy.

 _Well, another bridge goes up in flames. Well done me. It took less than half an hour to piss off the one person who wanted to help me in here. Fuck._

"Annie?"

"Yes?" She didn't bother looking at him, she just wanted to be alone.

"I wanted to tell you something. If I may."

Annie's attention jumped back to the doorway, where Armin stood and awkwardly waited for her to reply. She nodded to him.

"It's just…I wanted to..." He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand, "When I saw you fight, back during the initiation, you took my breath away. I've never seen somebody move like that! It was amazing!"

Well, that was… unexpected. About as unexpected as the warm feeling that manifested inside her at the compliment.

Armin noticed the odd look she was giving him, and his enthusiasm faltered, "I just wanted to tell you that. Sorry if I made it sound weird."

Annie felt something in her gut twist seeing him like that. The image of a lost puppy materialized in her mind.

"Hey, Kid."

He glanced at her, one foot halfway through the open doorway.

Annie considered her options for a few muted moments before voicing her thoughts, "Your reasons aside, you still stuck up for me when it counted. So I guess I owe you one."

"You don't-"

"If you want…" Annie lightly brushed her hand across the table surface, her gaze following the meangliess movement, "I could teach you sometime."

Armin stared at her with a surprised look on his face. A second later a radiant smile appeared on his face, "I think I'd like that."

The corners of her lips twitched upward briefly, her only outside indication, but on the inside she felt just as excited as her new student.

* * *

 **OT _* -_ Over Time.**

 **Analgesic* - Any drug that is used to achieve analgesia, relief from pain.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Attack on Titan or its characters. Nor do own anything in New York City.**

 **Hello lovely readers, thank for reading my fanfic which so desperately needs revising already. Drop a review if you so inclined, they make my day when I get them.**


	9. Mid-month Bonus 1

_**Thursday 04:00, March 2nd… Wings of Freedom Bar & Tavern, The Bronx**_

* * *

Mikasa's eyes searched the bar for any sign of her foster brother, she hadn't seen him for a while and she was starting to get worried.

"Eren? Are you in here?"

"Behind the bar!" Eren's voice shouted back at her, and she immediately walked followed his suggestion. She found Eren slumped over on the floor, his back leaning against the bar and a bottle of cognac in his hand. His normally active emerald eyes stared ahead blankly, and his mouth lay slightly agape. On top of his game he was not.

Eren looked at her curiously, albeit somewhat drunkenly, "Whadya want?"

Mikasa cleared her throat, her spine stiff with poorly concealed anger, "We need to talk."

He blinked slowly up at her, then patted the floor next to him, "Sit."

She carefully sat herself down beside him, stiffly stretching her long legs out in front of her and resting her head back against the counter behind her, "What was that during the initiation?"

"Which part?" Eren snorted and took a gulp from the bottle; his eyes focusing directly in front of himself.

"We almost killed Armin. _Again_." Mikasa grabbed Eren's cognac and took some healthy-sized swallows, the booze burned her mouth and made her eyes water but she was thankful for the distraction, "What the hell were you thinking?"

"Guess I wasn't."

"That's bullshit."

A sigh, deep and dry, escaped Eren's throat. He looked away mournfully, and before Mikasa could stop him, he pulled another bottle of spirits from the bar and started drinking it straight.

Trying to comfort him, Mikasa reached over and rested her hand on Eren's, her thumb moving in slow circles, "You should go talk to him, Eren."

Eren snorted derisively at her words, "And say what? 'Sorry, I forced a bonafide criminal to push your shit in to prove my point.' That'll go down well."

"It'll be better than avoiding him." She pointed out.

"Yeah right. Fuck…I didn't think shit would go down like this." Eren hung his head sadly, "Why the hell is he here now?! The fuck is he doing in this shithole?"

Mikasa shrugged, she honestly didn't care what Armin had been doing the night they found him. It was enough to have him in her life again.

"Didn't he go upstate?" Eren asked.

"He did. We drove him up to his dorm, remember?"

Eren let out a drunk hiccup, the closest he could get to laughter, "Yeah. You stole a car for us. A fucking yellow mom-mobile."

Mikasa hummed lightly in amusement, "I still remember the disappointment on your face when I pulled up in that thing."

Eren shifted his posture, and pulled his hand out of Mikasa's grasp before running it slowly through his scruffy hair. He sighed heavily and tipped more cognac into his mouth.

 _Sobriety hasn't been your friend for a long time, Eren. You don't have to keep kicking it while it's down._

"I just don't get it! Why the _fuck_ is he trying to be one of us?!" His depression quickly changing to anger.

She should have known that her brother wouldn't have stayed depressed for very long. To Eren any negative emotion could eventually emerge as anger. It was almost as if the man had a tiny hate-fueled furnace in his being that burned away anything that he fed it. And boy did he feed it.

"He hates shit like this! He wouldn't even steal shampoo from the corner store without fucking freaking out about it!" He jumped up and wobbled over to the shelf of liquor, compensating for his loss of balance like a true alcoholic, "Shit we're talking about the same guy who used to give away his lunch money to hobos when he was a kid; and now I'm supposed to make him fight monsters? That sounds like a fucking disaster waiting to happen right there."

"Then don't make him fight anybody, Eren!" Mikasa told him, "He doesn't have to go out and work with us in the field. He's smart, he'll be more use to use here."

"Yeah, doing what? Counting bullets and pouring drinks? We have people for that, Mikasa."

"We still need a bookie. Connie knows at least five sports' bars in our territory. We can start up a bookmaking operation."

"So what happens when some strongarm motherfucker decides he wants to get a refund?"

Mikasa gave him a hard look, "We can assign some bodyguards-"

"How many? And who? We got our ducks all in a row here, which team do you want to fracture to guard him?"

"It was just a suggestion. We'll come up with something." Mikasa shifted, rising to her feet, with cat-like grace she walked over and stood next to Eren.

"We shouldn't have to come up with something! He should NOT be here!" Eren roared as he viciously kicked the bar, rattling the bottles, "He should be off fucking doing science shit, living in a big fucking house in a suburb with a girlfriend and a designer dog; not hanging out here with lowlifes like us!"

Mikasa's eyes widened in concern, she didn't like where this is going, "He should be with his family, Eren. With us."

"Damn it Mikasa! I don't want to drag him down to our level!" Eren slammed his fist against the bar, his shoulders hunched and his free hand tightening on the bottle in his grip. His next words came out in a hushed whisper, as if he was scared to say them out loud, "I don't want to him to turn into something like me…"

His moment of clarity died as quickly as it came, drowned by the mouthfuls of liquor that followed. Mikasa knew better than to try and revive it.

* * *

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Attack on Titan or its characters. Nor do I own anything in New York City.**

 **Hah! You guys weren't expecting to see me back so soon, were ya? Since I take forever to update because I'm lazy as hell and writer's block hits me like a brick to the face so from now on, whenever I feel frustrated with an actual chapter, I'm gonna switch other to one these things. Little scenes that don't really fit in a chapter but I feel make the story a little better. I'm gonna call these scenes "Mid-month bonuses" and they'll be appearing every once in a while. Don't worry! The big chapters are still a thing and I'm working on chp 9 right now!**

 **Let me know if you guys want to see some more of these, and don't hesitate to drop a review. Them reviews are basically my freebased cocaine.**

 **CopperCruiser1: Thank you! I'm overjoyed that you thought the interaction between Annie and Armin was good! I'm gonna try really, really hard to make their interactions as well-written and thematic as possible. Also I really hope I never reach the point of uploading one every 6 months...**

 **Speed Ke'Dai: I really enjoyed Hitch's character in the manga so I want to give her a little more screen-time in the fic, and Jean is always a lot of fun to write. I'm also ecstatic that the interactions between Annie and Armin managed to get some emotions rolling, honestly that is great news to me. I try to update on a bi-monthly bases, and now I'll try to release a little bonus in between updates. So don't worry: this AU will continue! PS: Could you explain what you were referencing with Mr & Mrs. Smith? I've never heard that before.**


	10. Growing Pains

**_Writer's note: Sorry about the late update. Shit gets in the way sometimes. Hope ya'll enjoy the chapter; I enjoyed writing it._**

* * *

 _ **Saturday 13:00, March 4th… Mikasa's Apartment, The Bronx**_

* * *

Jean watched in fascination when Mikasa bit her lip, a bead of sweat dripping off her face. His eyes followed in fascination as her body moving up and down in a clear rhythm. She let out a forceful breath, and clenched her fists. After a moment of respite, she shook her head to keep her hair out of her eyes and continued.

"Jesus Christ, Mikasa!" Jean said, "Slow down! You're going to hurt yourself!"

Mikasa craned her neck to give Jean a blank look before dropping back into a proper push-up position and resuming her set. Which Jean felt he was intruding on. Not that that ever stopped him the previous times he had interrupted her workouts, but it still made him feel like he had just walked in on a painter in the middle of nude session.

"How many have you done?" Jean asked, sitting himself down on a metal fold out chair beside the kitchenette. Jean had been inside her apartment many times before, and he was the only person, besides Eren, to have a spare key to her place. They used it as a covert meeting place where they could discuss his more secret missions without being overheard by other members. He didn't like keeping secrets from his comrades, but sometimes it was necessary. Especially in Eren's case.

Mikasa huffed and pushed herself up to her feet. She stretched her arms over her head to loosen up before jumping up onto the chin-up bar she had installed in her doorway. Like everything about Mikasa, her apartment screamed practicality. Her living room had been turned into a gym, her refrigerator was full of protein shakes and nonperishable foods, and instead of a wooden dining table she preferred to use a plastic table she could fold away. In Jean's opinion the place looked more like a barracks than a home.

"Don't you ever get tired?" Jean sighed, watching her with a slight hint of exasperation.

"You had a report." Mikasa deadpanned, not bothering to stop her exercises. Whatever. She could do pull-ups and listen to his report at the same time.

"I do. I had a talk with one of the cops you saved." He rested his head on his knuckle, his brown eyes following her movements.

"Why only one?"

"The male's in a coma." Jean waved his hand dismissively, "But his partner agreed to work with us. Well, work with me. I know you'd rather the rest of the gang avoid her."

"The less she knows the better." She said, counting her reps under her breath as she listened, "What's your take on her?"

Jean shrugged, "She's got no one else to turn to and she thinks that the Hundred Fourth could help her get some revenge on the Titans. So she'll help us as long she thinks we're the lesser of two evils."

Mikasa finished and hopped off the bar, wiping away the sweat from her face with a nearby towel, "Do you trust her?"

Jean thought for a moment, his brow furrowed, "I trust that she wants the best for herself and her partner."

"That should've been easy for you to exploit." Mikasa said offhandedly.

"It was." Jean admitted quietly. He knew that Mikasa was just stating a fact and not making a jab at him, but the words still didn't sit right with him. Watching Hitch collapsing in on herself after she had heard that jogger humming and how easily her moods had shifted throughout the encounter... It made him a feel a little bit ashamed of himself.

 _The woman was traumatized. No telling if she's even capable of taking care of herself right now, and I pushed her into a position that could get her locked up or killed. Fuck, that stings a little._

Mikasa finished toweling herself off and walked over to the plastic fold-out table that served as a dining area. Before she was able to open another folding chair, Jean stood out of his and offered it to her out of habit. His usually cocky smile didn't make an appearance however; he had been on so many dinner dates that offering his chair had become a reflex.

The raven haired lieutenant thanked him with a curt nod before cracking open a water bottle and drinking deeply from it. Jean made himself comfortable by leaning on the counter, his hands in his pockets.

"Have you told Eren about the titan you killed?"

Mikasa shook her head, "I have no intention of doing so."

"May I ask why not?"

"You just did."

Jean snorted, "You know what I mean. Finding a titan a few minutes away from the Freedom sounds like something he should know about, right?"

"I had Sasha search the lot after the cops finished with it. She found an open runoff pipe with the its cover torn off." Mikasa folded her hands in her lap and closed her eyes, obviously winding down from her exertions, "My guess is that it used the sewers as a lair before it got hungry and crawled out to hunt."

Jean flinched at the mention of sewers. He had been unlucky enough to experience claustrophobic tunnels already, he had no desire to do that again. He barely survived the first time.

"And before you ask, yes I looked up the layout of that pipe. It's part of a network that was sealed in the sixties and it doesn't get any closer to us but I'm sending Connie over with some guys to weld it shut just in case."

 _Thank god. The idea of titans sneaking around under our feet made me a little nervous. That shit's straight out of a Stephen King book._

Mikasa voice became even more serious than usual, "If Eren finds out about that titan…"

"He'd want us to tear about the entire sewer looking for more." Jean finished her thought gravely.

"Or he might go down there himself."

Jean chuckled, the image of Eren pulling some action movie shit in the sewers was darkly amusing to him. He would be just the kind of person to load up on guns and runoff on his personal crusade. Probably be high off his face while he did so too.

"Did you find the client?" Mikasa changed the subject with her usual tactless deadpan, like a computer moving on to the next line of code. Jean looked at her in confusion for a moment before realizing that she was asking about his search for guy that sent them to the warehouse a month ago.

"Other matters took priority for me." His eyes twinkling as smile crept up on his lips, "I was off bribing cops and sleeping with therapists, remember?"

The lieutenant snorted, whether from humor or annoyance, he couldn't tell.

"Finding the client is now our top priority. He knew where to find those Titans, and I for one, am tired of shooting up crack dens looking for clues. We need intel and he has it."

"It would be easier if I had a partner, you know." Jean pointed out.

Mikasa blinked, her only outside indication of surprise, "You got someone in mind?"

"Armin seems like a smart guy." The con-artist's words were delivered with perfect nonchalance, as if the small blond was the obvious choice, "I bet he'd make a great confidence man."

He could tell from the furrowing of Mikasa's brow that she wanted to veto his idea, but instead she spent a quiet moment thinking to herself. Jean hoped that she wouldn't let her desire to protect her friend blind her to his suggestion. Out of all the members of the 104th, Armin fit the mold of a budding con artist perfectly. He was intelligent, thoughtful, and disarming whenever he spoke. Jean knew talent when he saw it, and he saw it when Armin used his influence and cunning to sway Eren's decision during Annie's execu- _initiation_. If he could convince a homicidal crank fiend to spare the life of the uppity bitch that stole from the gang… then, with the right guidance, he might also be able to pull some real miracles.

"Are you willing to take responsibility for training him?" Mikasa asked as she rose from her seat, standing directly in front of him and calling attention to the tightness of her tank-top and light sheen of sweat that decorated her pale skin.

 _Fuck she looks good when she's tired. Maybe I should join her set next time; I'm in pretty good shape, I'm sure I can keep up with her._

"Of course I will! Trust me Mikasa, he's gonna have a blast working with me." Jean's cocky smile came back full-force, "I won't even have to do much. That angel face of his is gonna do most of the work for us."

The corner of her lip twitched upward momentarily, and her eyes softened, "It's settled then. But do me a favor and wait a few days before starting, he hasn't fully healed yet."

Jean nodded, still smiling, "No problem. Can't have him puking in the middle of dinner, can we?"

* * *

 _ **Saturday 14:00, March 4th… 104th Street, The Bronx**_

* * *

Annie rolled her head slowly around her shoulders, wincing as her vertebrae popped loudly from the motion; her muscles feeling stiff and unresponsive to her wishes. Shows her right for staying up so late last night. Nile wasn't expecting her new report until the end of the week anyway.

She leaned back on the wooden door of the _Freedom_ 's garage, crossed one leg over the other and shoved her hands in her jacket pockets. Her fists clenched with anticipation, she waited for her new 'coworker' to show.

She hated waiting, especially when it's cold out. Another chilling gust of wind brushed past her, making her bangs flutter wildly. She pulled her leather jacket tighter around her body and considered pulling her sweatshirt's hood up to block the cold. She decided against it, she might doze off if she got too comfortable.

 _Where is this motherfucker? I've been waiting here for half an hour already._

She'd be lying to herself if she said that she didn't feel a rush of excitement when she woke up this morning. Today was, for lack of a better label, her first real day working for the 104th. She had spent the last few days since her initiation resting off her injuries and waiting around for Jeager to give her an actual assignment, and despite her attempts to counter it, she had started to become bored. Yesterday her boredom came to a head and instead of lounging around the bar watching truckers and day laborers drink themselves into a stupor, she had searched out Mikasa and asked the laconic lieutenant for some work.

Mikasa had been unresponsive to her requests at first. The dark-haired woman treated her with polite contempt, and seemed to be itching for a reason to get physical with her. Annie assumed she held a grudge against her for beating up Jaeger and Arlert, which was extraordinarily unfair in Annie's opinion. It took a few minutes of careful prodding and a mouthful of backhanded remarks before Mikasa finally relented.

"Hey! Annie."

The blonde snapped her piercing gaze to her side, where a tall man with swept back, somewhat spiky brown hair stood. He wore a simple workman's jacket, a pair of ripped blue jeans, and a deep frown on his face. Annie stared at him, waiting for him to introduce himself.

"Mikasa told me that you're gonna be tagging along with me today."

So this was her coworker… Annie nodded in affirmation and stood up to her full height, which still only came up to his ribcage.

"Cool. Let's get going then, we got a ton of shit to do today." He grumbled and turned away from her, walking over to a four door sedan. Annie followed behind him, the excitement squirming in her guts belied by her outwardly disinterested demeanor.

She stayed silent as the two of them drove out of the chain link gates of the Freedom's parking lot. She made herself comfortably in the car, pulling the passenger seat forward so she could see the road. The man driving kept the windows up as he plugged an AUX cord into an old iPod and queued up a playlist. Old school hip-hop filled the car, reminding Annie of another assignment she worked back up in Chicago. That had been an unusually short case. She had worked it for barely a day before the suspect committed four felonies in a single afternoon and rammed a police cruiser.

 _Hopefully that's not on today's agenda. That would be really annoying if I get locked up on my first day._

"Did Mikasa tell you what you'll be helping me with?" The man asked.

Annie shook her head and looked over at him, prompting him to explain.

"We're gonna be collecting today." He took a right and drove south, his frown never leaving his face, "You ever work a shakedown before, girl?"

"Does ransom count?" Annie replied, that had been strange case too.

The man rocked his hand in a 'so so' gesture before replying, "Eh, not really. But don't get too discouraged, working a shakedown is like riding a bike."

"You only need to learn it once?"

"No, I mean that any fucking idiot can do it." He pulled over in front of a small laundromat and glanced at her after he stepped out of the car, "Just watch what I do."

She nodded and joined him. The two of them walked into the small store, the glass door beeping loudly to announce their presence. Annie surveyed the laundromat through half-lidded eyes, her hands back in their pockets. The place was tiny, holding only about ten wash stations and driers. The walls were painted in an obnoxious shade of what Annie called 'Senile Grandma Green' and the chipped counter was manned by an old Asian man missing most of his teeth. The place was dead, with not a single costumer inside.

"Hello, Mr. Tann." Her coworker called out to the man, "That time of the month again."

The old man withered in his seat, "So soon?"

"Check your calendar, old timer. Now hurry up, I got to pick my kids up at five." The gangster leaned over counter menacingly; Annie stood by and observed coolly.

 _Huh. A protection racket. A little dated but you can't go wrong with the classics._

Mr. Tann fished around in his pocket for a moment before presenting a crumpled envelope to the gangster. The tall man checked the contents and nodded in satisfaction, "Looks good. See you next month, old timer."

They left the laundromat and climbed back into the car. The man pulled away and drove down the street, "See? Nothing to it."

Annie nodded, "How many people are we shaking down today?"

He scratched the underside of his chin in thought, "Only about twenty or so." He replied, "We're only dealing with blue street clients today."

Her head cocked to the side with interest, "Blue street?"

"Mhmm. Mikasa's big on organization, you see. So we separate our clients into different groups by their collection date and by how big a cut they owe us."

He stopped in front of a red light, glancing behind him for a moment to check traffic, "Today I'm doing blue street clients. Which means that we collect about fifteen percent of their earnings every thirty days."

"Ok…" Annie absorbed the information like a sponge, more than a little impressed with the 104th's system, "Does location matter at all?"

"Nope."

"What other groups are there?" Annie asked, mentally recording every detail for her report.

"We got blue street, yellow street, green street, and red street." The light turned green and they continued on their drive, "Green street clients are like family grocery stores or coffee shops. You know, low risk customers. Nobody really bothers them much and they don't make too much so we don't collect that often from them."

"I'm assuming blue street is a step up from that."

"Not bad. You're smarter than I thought." The man snorted, and Annie couldn't figure out if he was being sarcastic or not, "Blue street clients don't have much risk but they pull in more money, so we collect from them more often."

He glanced at her, a skeptical look on his face, "Can you guess what the yellow street clients are?"

"Clients that make more cash but present a higher risk?"

"Bingo!" The man slapped the dashboard lightheartedly, "We collect a solid thirty percent of their income every fifteen days, so we're talking places like strip clubs and liquor stores. Lots of street punks think those places are easy targets, so we help keep riff-raff out."

"What's red street then?"

The man's mood seemed to sour as soon as she asked that, "That's for clients that tried to fuck with us somehow. You know, like trying to hide money from us or giving us lip. We take most of their cash every week until they paid their due."

Annie blinked, somehow not even a little bit surprised that the 104th had instituted such draconian punishments.

The man pulled over in front of a small deli and parked the car, "Ok girl, you think you got the basics down?"

Annie nodded, "Walk in. Ask politely for the payment, count it and leave."

"You got it." He thought for a moment, "We're at _Grecko's_ so talk to the young guy with a goatee. The take should be two thousand dollars."

"What do I do if they don't pay up?" She asked, silently hoping the answer wasn't 'burn down the deli'.

"Scare the fuck out of them. Rough 'em up a little. Throw their shit around if you have to." He shrugged, "The choice is yours. Just don't go around dropping bodies."

 _Alright, I can work with that. Extortion and coercion isn't as bad as aggravated arson._

She stepped out of the car and waited for him to join her.

"Any last minute questions?" The man asked, his brown eyes watching her intently.

Something popped into her head, and on a whim she asked, "Yeah, what's your name?"

"Oh yeah, I forgot to introduce myself. I'm Nack." He let out a bark of laughter, the sound surprisingly vibrant for someone like him, "Now get in there and show me what you leaned."

Annie rolled her shoulders and walked headlong into the deli, her stride quick and a look of glaring impatience frozen across her face. She took a second to take in the place, noting that a few of the tables inside were occupied and that a small line was waiting in front of the counter. She pushed past the people and walked behind the counter, her ice-blue eyes set on a young man with a goatee.

"Hey! Miss, you can't be back h-"

"I'm here to collect." Annie deadpanned, her tone as flat and sharp as a scalpel.

The man's face blanched, his eyes darted back from Annie to Nack, who was leaning against wall.

"C-can this wait a little?" He pleaded, his hands shaking, "I uh…"

"Do you have the money or not?" Annie asked, taking a step closer to him.

"Yeah! Of course! Of course I have the money! Hahaha…" The man's nervous laugh tapered off when Annie's cold look shifted into a full glare, "I mean, I have most of it but I-"

"Is that a no?" She demanded.

"No! Just…"

"Good. Give it to me. _Now_." She held out her hand, waiting expectantly.

The man desperately glanced around, searching for a friendly face. But the deli patrons knew better than to get involved, each on them had either left immediately or were hunched over their food, chewing silently with their eyes on their meal. Defeated, the man sighed and reached into his pocket and dropped the take into her hand.

Annie tore the envelope open and quietly counted the bills inside as the man stood shaking in front of her.

She finished her count and her glare once again enveloped him, "It's light."

He flinched violently as if she had burned him with a red hot poker, "I-I know but if y-you give me a cha-"

"Open the register."

"W-what?! Nonono, I need that money! I have rent due this week and-" The man began to panic, his words breaking off into incoherent babbling. Annie felt a genuine spark of annoyance inside her as she watched him. She wanted him to shut up, and her more logical side gave her the perfect reason to make him. Annie knew that Nack was watching, she knew that he would report how she handled this to Mikasa and the rest of the gang when they got back. She might as well make sure he gave her a glowing recommendation.

Her hand shot forward before the man could react, he was short for a male so Annie had little difficulty grabbing a handful of his hair and pulling his head down hard enough to make him double over. The man cried out in pain as Annie lead him, painfully gripping him by the roots of his dark hair, to the register. She forced him back to his full height, and for a moment she caught a look of naked fear etched on the man's face.

She kicked out one of his legs, throwing him off balance before grabbing another fistful of hair in her freehand and smashing his face into the register. A sharp _clang!_ reverberated throughout the deli as the man's head hit the machine with his entire weight behind it, his head bouncing off sharply. Blood leaked down the plastic register covering and poured from his nose and mouth, dripping down his tear-stricken face onto the white apron he wore.

He coughed raggedly and spat out a mouthful of blood onto the tiles. On his knees and with her hand still entangled in his hair, he could do nothing to stop Annie pressing his damaged face against the register.

"Open it." She intoned.

He coughed again, one hand groping against the keys. With a load pinging sound the register snapped open, scaring the man as the till slapped lightly against his chest. With a bored shove, Annie released the man from her death grip, making him fall to the floor in a crumpled heap.

She causally counted out the missing amount, a solid five hundred dollars, before pushing the register shut and adding the bills to the take. She glanced down at the stunned man and frowned. He had curled up into a fetal position, his hands wrapped protectively around his face and loud gasping sobs escaping his throat.

 _For fuck's sake. I didn't even break your nose and you're having a breakdown._

As she took a step forward she heard something crunch under her boot. Her nose wrinkled in disgust when she noticed that she had stepped on one of his teeth.

 _Oh. That would explain the crying._

Annie wiped the fragments off on a carpet before walking out of the deli, noticing with some satisfaction that Nack followed behind her closely. They sat back down inside his sedan and she handed him the envelope, "So? How'd I do?"

"Not bad, girl. Not bad at all." Nack pocketed the take and let out a gravely chuckle, "You got yourself a bit of mean streak don't ya?"

"Sometimes." Annie shrugged, her face still as impassive as ever and her voice dull with boredom, "Let's go. We still have more clients to get to today."

* * *

 _ **Saturday ?:?, March 4th... [REDACTED]**_

* * *

There was something to be said about the honesty of animals. Most animals don't have a reason to or the capacity to lie. If a dog likes you, it'll wag its tail. If it doesn't, it'll growl. Simple, easy to understand, blatantly obvious signals that any person could pick up on.

Petra liked that about them. In her family honesty was highly valued, she had grown up with the lesson that honesty was a good thing to have in life, so it cheered her when she saw it in the world around her. Especially in her four-legged and winged friends.

However, too much honesty can be annoying. For example, the pair of vultures flying circles above her head sent a very honest and a very discouraging message.

 _They think I'm dying. Well jokes on you, I'm not ready to be eaten yet. Come back later._

"They're back." Petra grumbled, her eyes idly following the feathered scavengers, "I wish they'd stop doing that."

"We keep getting their hopes up." A cynical male voice answered her, "Not much to eat around here, I'll bet."

Petra wiggled her shoulders and hips, trying to find a more comfortable position on the hot rocky Texas earth. It wasn't very accommodating to say the least.

"I saw a dead rattlesnake a while ago." She commented, stilling her movements and resting her head on her day-pack, "They could go eat that instead."

"You should have told me. I could've made dinner."

Petra turned her head to the side, partly to keep the sun out of her eyes but mainly to bemusedly look at her companion, "No way do you know how to cook rattlesnake, Levi."

"No way you _don't_ know how to cook rattlesnake. All you have to do is skin it, impale it on a stick, and hold it over a fire for half an hour. Any moron could do it."

"Then why don't we go find one while we wait?" Petra offered, eager to get up and move around for a bit. The two commandos had spent the past few hours laying on their back in a foot-deep ditch, waiting for further information from their scouts. The tiny wall of dirt and rock only slightly hid her from sight and offered little shade to protect her from the blazing sun. Still, she wasn't too worried about being spotted, the only signs of civilization around here were two interstate highways, miles apart. And empty.

"You could teach me." She added hopefully. Levi just continued to lounge, like a lizard basking in the sun.

Unlike his younger teammate, Levi seemed right at home in the arid desert. With the brim of his baseball cap pulled over his eyes and his hands clasped lazily across his chest, the normally vigilant man looked like he had just settled down for a mid afternoon nap. His causal look was completed by his jeans and long-sleeved t-shirt, a far cry from his preferred military fatigues. If it wasn't for the magazine-filled plate carrier* strapped around his torso and the carbine propped up beside him, he almost looked… normal.

 _Damn, he should wear jeans more often. They look good on him._

Petra winced with embarrassment at the thought and promptly kicked it out of her head. She must have spent too much time staring at the sun. She glanced down at her own clothing, blowing away a stray lock of hair.

During their mission briefing Erwin and Levi had agreed that, since they would be operating during the day, it would be best for the commandos to dress in civilian clothes to avoid suspicion in case they were spotted. Petra herself wore a simple white t-shirt and a pair of slim khaki cargo pants, her own light plate carrier hidden under a blue-and-black flannel overshirt. Her light ginger hair was pulled back into a short ponytail and covered with a faded baseball cap. From a distance she looked like a stereotypical southern woman, although she lacked the accent.

She noticed that Levi hadn't replied to her question, and a glance revealed that he was too busy listening to his radio. Petra felt herself tense up with anticipation. If Levi was getting a broadcast that meant a scout had spotted their target.

"Understood, Crow two. Give me a full description of the target." Levi rose to his feet and nodded to Petra, "Get the bike, we're moving." He ordered.

"On it!" Petra jumped to her feet, scooped up her backpack and weapon in one fluid movement, and ran toward a large patch of cacti roughly twenty meters away. Behind the prickly vegetation lay an all-terrain two-person dirt bike, concealed by some camouflage netting. Petra pulled netting away, pushed the motorcycle onto its wheels, and secured her weapon and pack to the back of the vehicle. Satisfied that her gear was squared away she grabbed the handle bars, slid into the seat, and twisted the ignition. The bike roared to life, bringing a wide grin to Petra's face.

Sand and rocks flew as the wheels tore into the sun-baked earth while the bike found the traction it needed. Petra accelerated past the cacti and rode back to where Levi was listening intently to one their scouts. She came to a stop a few feet away from him, engine humming in eagerness.

Levi cut his broadcast between the scout and slung his weapon across his back before climbing onto the motorcycle behind Petra.

"Head to marker charlie." Was all he managed to say before Petra gunned the engine and sped across the rocky ground. The meters flew by as the dirt bike careened past boulders and over the dried dirt at a healthy 60 miles per hour.

When Longsword had dropped them off hours ago, the squad had separated into three teams. Levi and Petra rode south in case the target tried to switch interstates, Oluo and Eld had set up a vantage point on the highest point they could find for overwatch, and Gunther took the direct path to the predicted interstate to prepare the ambush. Their mission was simple: locate and intercept a semi-truck suspected of smuggling titans into the United States. If they were lucky, the truck would be full of C and D class titans that they could easily dispatch with small arms fire. If they were unlucky then they might have to take on a B-class. Or, god forbid, some of the newer monsters they've been encountering recently: abnormals.

She shifted in her seat, leaning slightly to the side to help guide the dirt bike around a patch of rocks. After about ten minutes of riding her adrenaline had settled into a comfortable burn, her body reacting to the obstacles in their path before she even had time to think about them. The desert wind blew past her and tugged at her clothing and hair, bringing a sense exhilarated peace. She was enjoying herself so much she started losing track of where she was going.

"Ral, slow down." Levi's voice broke the serenity, "There's a ravine ahead."

She brought the bike to stop about 50 meters away from the gorge. She surveyed the area, looking for a way around the obstacle, but the ravine stretched out to either side for miles.

"Tch, just our luck." Levi said, glaring at the gorge as it had personally slighted him, "Shitty ass maps never show the small things."

Petra glanced back at her captain, "What do we do?"

"Go around and hope we find a place to cross the damn thing."

She nodded and prepared to drive, when something caught her eye. A little ways ahead, she spotted a outcropping of rock that stuck out over the ravine. A natural ramp. A glint of excitement appeared in her eyes.

 _That could be useful. I mean the ravine is only a few meters wide and there's plenty of run-up... I can make that jump._

"Captain, I have an idea on how to cross!" She reported, turning back to give Levi an eager smile.

"You about to grow wings and jump over it or something, Ral?"

Her smile grew into a grin, "Yup!"

Levi stared at her with exasperation in his eyes, "Fuck's sake, Ral. Now's not the time for jokes."

Petra shrugged nonchalantly, and turned back, mentally preparing herself for the jump.

"Captain, hold on to me." She told him, "And lean forward."

"What the fuck are you talk- OH SHIT!"

She gunned it. The motorcycle roared as it charged directly for outcrop. Petra felt hands wrap around her middle, and her stomach did a flip as her captain held onto her for dear life.

The bike flew up the smooth rocks, launching them into the air. For a split second Petra felt a sense of weightlessness as the ravine passed under them. Then gravity kicked in. The front wheel hit the ground first, sending shocks all the way up the metal frame and into her bones. She recovered instantly and accelerated out of the landing, the drive wheel tearing away the stones beneath them.

They were back on track. Petra happily continued riding through the surrounding Texas badlands, feeling more than a little smug.

"That saved us some time, right Captain?" She asked, a note of pride in her voice.

Levi stayed silent, and suddenly Petra remembered whose arms were around her right now. Her heart beat harder and faster; her breathing quickened. As the excitement of the jump faded away she become aware of other little details, like how she could feel Levi's breath tickle the back of her neck and the pressure of his chest against her back.

Now Petra wasn't somebody that shunned physical contact. In fact, out of all the members in her squad, she was by far the most affectionate. From embarrassing Gunther with hugs in the mess hall or slugging Oluo for his off-color and often perverted jokes, she never shied away from expressing herself physically.

But Levi was an exception. He was the only person that she concealed her feelings for. Not because she disliked or feared him, but because she admired him as her captain too much. He was deathlessly loyal, coolly intelligent, and determined beyond belief; his silent strength was the rock that made her team work. His skill and drive gave them the edge to fight against the worst monsters humanity had ever encountered. Even now she found herself pushing her abilities to their limit, trying her best to impress him. Yes, hugging him would be like trying to hug Batman.

So she cleared her throat and as calmly as she could, she said, "Captain? You're plate-carrier is digging into my back…"

It was an outright lie, if anything her own backplate would stop any discomfort, but it was the best she could come up with at such short notice.

Levi withdrew his arms from her, and the comforting assurance of his presence dissipated. A twinge of regret spreading through her.

"Hey, Ral. Next time you feel like practicing for the X-games, do it with Oluo not me." Levi's gruff voice drawled from behind her.

The motorcycle roared as she snaked them down a rough game trail, her focus returning to her, "Sorry, Captain. But I did warn you, you know."

She could almost feel the glare he gave her in response. She swallowed nervously, sure that she just earned herself some KP*.

"I can see the road, marker charlie is nearby." Levi activated his radio, "Crow two, status update. Over."

Petra shifted gears, riding parallel to the interstate. The land was flatter than paper here so she could get some real speed. She leaned into the wind and smiled as the bike reached 70 then 80 miles per hour. She was having so much fun hurtling across the landscape that she was a little let down when she arrived at marker charlie in less than two minutes.

She slowed to a stop, her left leg bracing the bike, and looked around. Besides the interstate right next to her, the only other thing here was an abandoned mobile home that was covered in rust and weeds. Marker charlie had been picked as potential ambush spot for a reason. It was flatter than the surface of a puddle and the only cover for a good 200 meters was the rusted out mobile home.

And said cover was currently host to Gunther, wearing cargo pants and a blue and yellow flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up past his elbows. The stoic operator waved at them in greeting. Petra smiled and waved back as Levi dismounted from the bike.

"You can hide your bike behind here." Gunther told them, lightly tapping the rusted hunk of metal he was leaning on, "I already stashed my quad."

Petra thanked him and drove the motorcycle around the home, before parking it next to Gunther's camouflaged ATV. She retrieved her weapon, a M4A1 carbine loaded with 5.56x45mm ammunition. She clipped the weapon to her one-point sling before removing her overshirt and tying it around her waist for easier access to the pouches on her body armor.

She finished getting ready and ran back over to Levi and Gunther, where her captain listened intently to his radio. Petra nudged Gunther's arm and asked, "Any news?"

"Yup. Target's on the way. Captain's listening to one of the scouts now." Gunther shifted slightly, cradling his M1014 shotgun in the crook of his elbow, "Sounds like the target doesn't have any escorts, so it looks like we won't need Oluo's support today."

 _Oh no! Poor Oluo is gonna be heartbroken if he doesn't get to shoot his new gun today..._

Petra glanced back at the hills behind her, wondering if she could catch a glint from Oluo's scope. She knew he and Eld were posted up somewhere among the rocks, watching over them in case things went tits-up. Unlike the rest of the team, who had been equipped with light and easy to carry weapons, Oluo had been issued one of the Legion's M107 anti-material rifles. Loaded with black-tipped* 12.7x99mm NATO rounds, the rifle could punch straight through a centimeter of steel from a kilometer away. Oluo immediately fell in love with it and named it 'Olga' after his first girlfriend.

Levi's voice brought her attention back to the task at hand.

"Gunther, is the prep work done?" He asked.

"Yes, Captain. I deployed two strips of traffic spikes on the road and I have some remote explosives set up further down in case the target gets away."

"Good." Levi activated his radio again, "Oi, Blue one. Are you set up?"

 _Eld and Oluo must be having a great time up there. I wonder if they found any shade…_

She couldn't hear Eld's response, her own radio was only short-range, but she could tell by Levi's satisfied nod that their sniper team was ready and willing to put some very big holes into something.

And speaking of that something, Petra's keen eyes spotted a shape moving up the interstate. The shape slowly grew in size until she could make out the cab of the semi-truck and the massive trailer it towed behind it.

She wasn't the only one to notice it. Levi quickly barked orders at them, telling them to get out of sight before the trucker spots them. Petra compiled immediately, and less than ten seconds later the three commandos lay hidden behind the mobile home.

About thirty seconds passed before the dull roar of the semi's engine reached their position. Petra readied her weapon, round in the chamber and the fire-selector set to automatic, with her trigger-finger rested right above the trigger guard. Adrenaline came rushing back to her. Sweat ran down her neck leaving cool streaks on her skin, and an occasional muscle twitched with anticipation for what would inevitably be an explosive few minutes.

The dull rumble of the engine was suddenly overshadowed by a loud violent _POP_ _!_ as the traffic spikes did their job. The truck ground to halt a few meters away, its tires shredded beyond repair.

"Time to earn our keep." Was all Levi had to say before he stepped out of cover, his carbine shouldered and ready to fire. Petra and Gunther were right behind him, their own weapons at the ready.

"Hands where I can see them! NOW!" Gunther shouted, pointing his shotgun right at the slack jawed truck driver's face. The man complied immediately, throwing his hands up while staring at them in absolute disbelief.

Petra knew that Gunther and Levi had the driver covered, so she busied herself with making sure nobody was trying to get out of the trailer it was towing. She advanced carefully, checking every nook for threats. Her hands felt slick as sweat collected inside her fingerless gloves, but her brain was too focused to notice. Something, however, did catch her attention when she passed the space between the cab and the trailer.

 _Doesn't_ _look like they boobytrapped the rigging or the cab. But why are there so many cables running to the trailer?_

Electrical cables hung limply between the cab and the trailer, like strands of colorful spider webs. She knew that these kinds of trucks often needed a few cables in order to power the rear turn signals and other things like that. But what truck needed twenty cables? And what looked like coolant lines?

"Captain!" She called out, keeping an eye on the trailer just in case, "I found something!"

Levi stood beside her a second later, and gave her a questioning look, "What is it?"

She pointed to the mess of plastic and metal, "Whatever's in there is taking up a lot of power."

"That can't be good. That's pro-"

BLAM!

Petra and Levi dropped to a crouch, searching for a threat. Someone had fired a weapon and a big one at that.

 _Where did that gunfire come from? It's gotta be close by. I didn't see the bullet hit anything or fly past us. It can't have been directed at us, but that means it had to be at-_

"Gunther!" Petra shouted, a note of fear in her voice, "Gunther, sound off!"

A moment of silence hung over them before...

"Blue two, sounding off!" Gunther called out. Petra heard someone jump off the cab's built in stepladder. The muscled commando took a few steps to his left, where Levi and Petra could see him through tangle of electrical wires, "All clear. There was a hostile in the back of the cab. Hiding under the bed rack."

"Armed?" Levi asked.

"Handgun. I secured it." Gunther reported, "I got the driver detained too. He's human."

"Good. Let's get over to the trailer and see what's insi-,"

A loud metal screech cut Levi off, as the back door of the trailer was torn off from inside. Petra watched as it flew back with enough force to crash to the asphalt with a thunderous **BANG**. Steam flowed out in heavy clouds, momentarily obscuring her sight before it dissipated in the hot air.

Petra dropped to one knee and stared down her sights, waiting for a target to present itself. Standing right behind her crouched form, Levi readied his own M4. She wished that Gunther was on their side of the truck, it was always safer to be in a group when titans were involved.

They waited for a moment. Then another. Then another. Then one more after that. Whatever smashed the door off took its damn time in challenging them.

Petra was about to begin circling over to the trailer door when the titans made their move.

The first one to leave its metal enclosure was a delicate looking woman, her naked skin pulled tight over her skeletal body. Her thin arms rose towards the sun as if she could snatch it right from the sky. Her movements were strange, her feet seemed to pull her forward when she walked, each step anchoring her in preparation for the next. She did not notice her killer crouched only a few meters behind her.

Petra's first shot hit the nape with enough force to tear half the flesh off the titan's neck. Her spine folded onto itself, like the stem of a broken flower. Her head swung to and fro off the back of the titan's shoulder, her face a mask of smiling confusion. Steam and blood oozed from the torn flesh for a moment, before the titan collapsed onto the hot asphalt.

"Target down." Petra called out.

A second titan jumped down from inside. This one was taller, maybe able to see over the truck if it had stood up. It slinked along the ground, using all four of its limbs to scuttle toward the commandos. Its face lacked any features save for two giant, bright blue eyes. Membranes covered its nose and mouth like a fleshy mask but Petra could still see its teeth pressed against the flesh.

Petra and Levi fired simultaneously, muzzles flashing as their rounds hit home. The titan spasmed violently as the bullets fragmented through its body, filling its head and torso with lead. It fell twitching to the ground, where they put a few more rounds into its nape to be sure.

"Abnormal eliminated." Levi reported.

Gunther's shotgun discharged and Petra, crouched low enough to see under the trailer, saw another titan corpse drop steaming to the floor. Its head and upper clavicle missing completely.

"Contact neutralized." Gunther shouted.

With a roar of pent up rage, more titans pushed their way out of their steel cage and charged the commandos. They were chaotic, unorganized, and utterly feral in their actions; charging directly into the line of fire without any regard for their own personal safety or chances of success. They screamed and howled as the commandos cut them down with unfeeling efficiency, leaving nothing but a line of steaming corpses evaporating under the hot Texas sun.

Nothing else emerged from the mouth of the trailer but the commandos weren't about to take anymore chances.

"Blue two, regroup with us on the passenger side of truck." Levi called out, his voice still inflectionless even with the extra volume.

"Acknowledged." Gunther called back.

"Red one move back with me, you cover and I'll lead. Let's give our sniper some room to work."

"Understood." Petra replied.

Petra stood and waited for Levi's off hand to grab hold of her plate carrier to guide her steps as she walked backwards, her eyes and weapon trained on the trailer entrance. After walking like this for a few seconds Petra felt his fingers tap twice on her shoulder. She took two more steps and and stopped. Levi removed his hand and Petra dropped back into a crouch.

"Blue two approaching behind you." Gunther told them, as he walked past Levi and crouched down next to Petra. The three of them were now waiting on the hot dirt roughly 6 meters away from the truck. They still couldn't see what was inside the trailer but now nothing would be able to use the truck to sneak up on them at least.

"Blue two, cover us. Red one and I gotta top up." Levi told Gunther. The big man nodded, and Petra took the opportunity to reload her weapon. She pulled the almost-empty magazine from the magwell and stuck it in her back pocket for safekeeping, the mag still had bullets in it after all, then pulled a fresh one from her body armor and firmly slid it into place.

"Locked and loaded."

"Me too. Be ready for some big and angry fucks to jump out of there. They're not gonna like what's about to happen." Levi advised them, Petra heard a cackle of static as he activated his radio again, "Blue one, we suspect that there are more threats inside the trailer. Ask Red two to thin them out. Permission to use silver tips* granted."

They didn't have to wait long before Oluo made good on the order. His first shot tore a quarter-sized hole in the trailer's side. A second after the impact, a faint cracking sound reached Petra's ears, the sound of the anti-material rifle firing a few hundred meters behind her. Another bullet hit, roughly six inches to the left of the first. The third did the same, and so did the others. For half a minute Petra watched as a dotted line, about six feet above the truck's bed, was slowly punched into the side of the trailer.

"Hope he doesn't hit anything useful. The titans might be guarding something valuable." Levi mumbled out loud as he watched the line of bullet holes approach the mouth of the trailer.

"I'm more worried about one of those... rounds setting something off in there." Petra added, pausing for a moment when another bullet hit its mark, its report accompanied by the sharp cry of rending steel, "Those wires are connected to something."

"Tch, if that's the case then cleanup is going to be a bitch. It's almost impossible to get scorch marks off of asphalt."

Finally the last bullet completed the line. Levi's radio hissed loudly, and Petra could just barely hear Eld's report,"Red two has run dry on incendiaries. Permission to take another pass with black tips?"

"Permission denied, Blue one. We'll go inspect the damage; stay on overwatch." Levi clipped his radio back on his armor, and let out a tired breath, "Alright then, let's go see what's behind door number one."

As a team the three commandos approached the doors from the side, each one them tense and ready to fire at a moments notice. Petra noticed that steam-or was that smoke?- leaked out of some of the bullet holes, confirming her suspicions. There were still titans in there, and every second that ticked by only gave them more time to heal from their wounds.

Gunther got there first and pulled himself up inside the trailer, with Petra and Levi following right behind him. The sweet scent of burning flesh threatened to overwhelm them, making Petra gag. Everywhere she looked, she could see burn marks and rapidly steaming blood. Bodies were splayed on the floor, some them lying in mounds while others were propped up by the walls of the trailer. It looked like there was at least two dozen titans packed into this trailer, thankfully the majority of them had been killed by the barrage. She scanned the trailer for threats, and she managed to find one.

Lying on his side, a titan frantically stuffed chunks of his intestines back into the gaping hole that was once his gut. Petra guessed that one of Oluo's rounds had tumbled after penetrating through the trailer, and the titan was unfortunate enough to be standing in its way. She raised her weapon, ready to put the thing down, when the titan let out a wheezing cry.

"Hurts." It gasped, its one good eye shut tightly, "It hurts. Why does it hurt?!"

Curiosity kept her finger from pulling the trigger, caution kept her form moving closer.

"Bullets hurt." Levi called out matter-a-factly, "Did you forget about that little fact?"

The titan's eye creaked open, the orb inside bloodshot and caked with filth, and it glared directly at her. Fleshy lumps covered its face, concealing the rest of its features. Saliva leaked from the titans jaw as it pulled its inflamed lips back in a snarl.

"Hurts." It croaked, "Harvester said I won't hurt anymore."

 _Harvester? What the fuck?_

"You made me hurt! You made him a liar! HE'S NOT A LIAR! NOT A LIAR!" The titan screamed, his voice echoing down the trailer, "LIAR! HURT! LIAR HURT NOT _ME_!"

The titan's arm shot out, plunging into the metal floor with enough force to shatter its fingernails, sending flakes everywhere. With amazing strength it pulled itself frantically towards them, its bottom half uselessly dragging behind it.

As fast as it crawled, it wasn't faster than a 12 gauge shotgun. Gunther fired three times, pretty much turning the thing to steaming mulch. The body twitched for a few seconds before finally expiring.

"Target down." He said as he fed shells into his shotgun, "Looks like there's more."

As if spurred by the sound of gunfire, some the bodies began to wail and thrash. Each of the titans were broken in some way; many had missing limbs, some were so covered in cancerous growths that they resembled a melted candle, and all of them were covered with horrible burns.

"Those silver-tips did their job." Levi observed, he turned back to the entrance with his radio in his hand, "I'll contact Longsword for pickup. Go ahead and put them out of their misery before they start trying to eat us."

Petra did as she was told, flipping her weapon to semi-automatic before firing into the napes of the crippled titans. Gunther did the same but with less finesse, the boom of his shotgun resembled thunder in such an enclosed space.

After they finished mopping up, Petra reloaded her weapon and flashed a look at Gunther. Neither them were particularly callous individuals but there was something almost… therapeutic about killing titans. Petra chalked it up to putting down a rabid animal. It was hard to have sympathy for something that wanted nothing more than to sink its teeth in you, after all.

"How many you got over there, Gunther?" She asked.

He gave her a thumbs up and a tight-lipped grimace, probably from the smell, "Seven. You?"

She smiled and shifted her weight to one foot, "Five, but I killed four more outside. Plus the Captain and I got an abnormal."

Gunther let out a quiet goodnatured curse, "Damn, I guess drinks are on me tonight."

"Better believe it. Although we can always make Oluo pay for 'em." She glanced around her filthy surroundings, "Most of the ones he hit were still alive after all."

"He got a few." Gunther pointed out.

"We don't have tell him that." Petra said, a conspiratorial look in her eyes.

Gunther snorted in amusement, "No, I guess we don't."

"The fuck are you two laughing about?"

The two commandos jumped as Levi walked over to them. He really didn't make any noise even as he walked even with the floor covered in crunchy bones and garbage.

"Nothing Captain." Petra said, a little bit embarrassed, "Just some banter…"

Levi made a small 'tch' sound and said, "That better mean you cleared the rest of this place."

Gunther nodded, "Of course, Captain."

"Good. Alright, spread out and search the place. Let's see if we can find anything interesting before the lab rats steal all the credit." Levi ordered.

The team spread out and began rummaging through the trailer. Petra had to keep one of her hands over her mouth to keep the smell from making her sick. The trailer was a mess. The floor was caked in dirt and garbage bags full of old food that had been broken open and burned by the incendiary rounds. The titan bodies were beginning to shrink away, their eyes and skin being the first to go up in steam. Petra nearly tripped over human bones multiple times, and she was unsure whether they come from dead titans or unlucky victims.

"Ugh." Petra coughed, "I didn't think anything could smell this bad."

Levi snorted in agreement but stayed silent, Petra glanced over at the captain and noticed that he was busy fiddling with something. She walked over to him and looked over his shoulder. He was holding a red cloth wallet in his hands, and she watched quietly as he went through and pulled out an Arizona ID from it. It showed the picture of an older male, probably in his late 70's, and underneath the picture the ID read 'Roy Greenbell Junior'.

Levi looked up at her, his face impassive as usual, "We should have Mike check this guy out, he might give us a lead."

"Yeah…" Petra sighed and gave the photo one more uncomfortable look before leaving her captain to continue searching through a pile of discarded clothing. Levi and Gunther seemed to have most of the search under control so she decided to check out the very back of the trailer. The floor became more well kept as she approached the back, likely because the titans had been pressed up near the opening when they died. The constant stink of blood and unwashed bodies suddenly disappeared; and Petra shivered as cool air enveloped her. She glanced around, momentarily confused and very uneasy. Then, over the sounds of her teammates shuffling through garbage, she heard a low steady drone coming from the end of the trailer.

 _Oh… It's just an air conditioner. The cooler air is pushing the stink out of the trailer. Duh._

She relaxed, letting her weapon hang from its sling as she pulled her cap off, undid her ponytail, and shook her hair free. The cool breeze running through her hair felt divine, and for the first time in a while Petra became aware of how dusty she was. She thought about using the baseball cap to knock some of it off but then something occurred to her.

 _Hold on. Why would the somebody jury-rig an air conditioner back here? It's not like the titans needed it, right?_

Honestly she didn't know whether the titans reacted to extreme heat like their human counterparts did. It made sense that they would need someway to cool off given their already extreme body heat, but she knew better than to apply human logic to them. They weren't human, after all.

 _Maybe it's a comfort thing? Or maybe they were trying to keep their food fresh? Or maybe..._

Petra took a few steps forward, keeping her eyes peeled for anything interesting. A few cardboard boxes were stacked to the side. A light kick from Petra told her that the boxes were full. She slung her carbine across her back and kneeled down to begin her search. The first box she looked through was full of nothing but wooden shavings. She moved the box out the way and continued searching. The next one again held shavings.

"Really?" She mumbled, feeling almost insulted. It was painfully obvious that whoever had packed this boxes was trying to hide something among them. Nobody shipped packing material by itself, after all.

Her interest piqued, Petra ravaged the box. She began tossing handfuls of the stuff over her shoulder, covering the floor with shavings. Once she finished searching, she threw the empty cardboard away and started again on another. She'd gotten through two boxes before Levi took note of her behavior.

"Oi. Place not messy enough for you?" He asked sarcastically, scowling when shavings stuck to the blood on his boots.

Looking up at him, Petra reported breathlessly, "These boxes have nothing but wood shavings in them, Captain."

"So? Maybe the titans wanted to build a playground or something."

The honey-eyed commando tittered, recognizing the joking tone hidden behind his rudeness. Levi let the corners of his mouth turn up slightly; it wasn't every day that somebody laughed at his jokes.

Petra shifted over slightly, a subtle invite for him to join her, "Something's hidden here. I can feel it!"

Levi's expression turned questioning, but Petra was already tearing into another box. She had gone through half of the box when Levi crouched down to her and ripped open his own box. They worked in a comfortable quiet, the artificial breeze cooling and relaxing them, while they waited for Longsword to arrive.

The ginger woman scooped out a final handful of shavings then tossed her box away in frustration. She berated herself for once again trying to make a titan's actions fit into human behavior, and now she'd made herself look foolish in front of the Captain too. She huffed and shifted her weight back and waited for him to finish his search.

"Petra..."

She rubbed her hands on her thighs and sighed, "Before you say anything, I genuinely thought something was hidden in these. I mean why else would titans try to air-cool a bunch of packing material!"

"They weren't." Levi deadpanned, "They were probably protecting this."

Petra could barely believe it when Levi pulled out a hard-shell, bright white plastic case from his box. The case was about a foot in length and width, and about half as thick. A piece of masking tape was stuck to the front and the words 'Integer Caro' were written on it with black sharpie.

Levi popped open the clasp and opened the case, revealing a small test tube nestled securely in foam.

"What's that?" Petra asked, leaning close and squinting at the tube. She couldn't really tell what the tube held, thanks to the dim light, but there definitely was a lot of it. "Hold it up to the light please, Captain."

He nodded and pulled out a small flashlight, shining the light directly at it. Petra flinched and let out a moan, "Ugh, that's…"

"...Disgusting." Levi finished for her.

Flesh filled the tube, bright pink and slimy. She could see small bits of skin and ligaments stretch across small parts of the flesh. It strongly resembled the bottom of a human tongue to Petra, a fact which made her own twitch uncomfortably.

Levi's sharp features twisted into a grimace, his teeth grinding against each other in disgust, "Fuck me, there's fucking worms inside this thing!"

She reached out and, with a quick glance to Levi, took hold of the test tube. She could feel it vibrate rhythmically with fingertips as she closed an eye to take a closure look. The tiny black pulsing lines criss-crossing just under the flesh made her stomach churn. Then she noticed something about them.

"Those aren't worms…" Petra whispered, both awestruck and sickened, "They're blood vessels."

 _The vibrations. They're in a rhythm..._

Petra wanted to vomit as the realization stormed into her mind, "Levi…" She blankly held out the test tube back to her Captain, her honey-brown eyes wide with shock.

"What?" He asked, clearly reluctant to handle the vial again.

"I can feel a heartbeat." She told him.

* * *

 **Plate Carrier* - A modular piece of equipment that was developed to replace ballistic vests, plate carriers are becoming the new standard in protective body armor. While the carrier itself does not offer any form protection from gunfire, it does have 'plate pockets' inside of it where a user can secure a ballistic plate. Plate carriers come in many models and brands but can be separated into** **roughly** **four classes depending on how many plate pockets they posses, from light carriers (backplate, frontplate) to full carriers (backplate, frontplate, sideplates, crotchplate, neck protector). The main benefit from plate carriers is the amount of options it gives the user, i.g. removing sideplates to increase comfort and mobility or the option to replace a damaged plate on the fly.**

 **KP* - Kitchen Patrol or Kitchen Police is often assigned to junior enlisted personal in the U.S. Military, where they are assigned to work under the kitchen staff and help cook, clean, and dispose of trash. While KP duty is most often handed out on a rotational basis, it is sometimes used as punishment for a minor infraction.**

 **Black Tips* - A slang term for armor-piecing rounds used by the U.S. Military due to the tips of the bullets being painted black for easy identification.**

 **Silver Tips* - A slang term for armor-piecing incendiary rounds used by the U.S. Military due to the tips of the bullets being painted silver for easy identification.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Attack on Titan or its characters. Nor do I own anything New York City or the state of Texas.**

 **Hi everybody and I hope you enjoyed this new chapter, I realize I'm a good twenty days late but in my defense I'm a lazy motherfucker. Please do drop a review if you feel like it as I love reading and interacting with you guys and gals. I'm also probably gonna upload this fic up on tumblr sometime, just for the hell of it.**

 **CopperCruiser1: Happy Birthday! That chapter was a bit short because that scene was more of a side project than a real chapter. Pretty much I might be throwing up a few of those shorter chapters in between the longer ones, I'm thinking they might offer me a little more freedom to show off the off-stage actors. I'm glad you're enjoying the story, hopefully it won't take two years for me to crank out another chapter, eh?**

 **Wildcate: Eight chapters and a bonus in one sitting?! I'm overjoyed that you enjoyed the fic enough to read it all through! Hope you liked this one!**

 **JasonVUK: Thanks! I'm glad you liked it!**

 **CopperCruiser1: Hello again! Time skips are probably gonna happen again but I'm looking forward to showing off some more Connie and Sasha action in the next chapter, maybe with a little bit of Ymir thrown in there as well. Hope this new chapter lives up to expectations!**


	11. Warranted Blues

_**Hello again, welcome back to TBL. Sorry about the late update, this one's been rewritten heavily. Mad props to my editor for whipping this into shape.**_

* * *

 _ **Sunday 02:00, March 5th… The Bronx**_

* * *

Rainwater crashed against metal as Hitch sped down the deserted streets, the tires of her police cruiser squealing on the wet asphalt. First shift back on the job and she was already heading toward her first domestic disturbance call of the night. And she couldn't fucking wait to get there. Anything was better than sitting around letting her mind wander.

Chuck, her temporary supervisor, sat in the passenger seat and held unto the car door for dear life. His face had twisted into a constant grimace and turned an unusual shade of green as Hitch swerved past obstacles and took corners at a healthy sixty miles per hour. Normally Hitch would have a joke or two at the tip of her tongue to crack at his expense but after spending the past four hours stewing in her car and forcing herself to act normal, her sense of humor was running on empty.

They pulled into a parking lot in front of a gray apartment complex with an ear-splitting screech from the abused brakes, lights appeared in the windows as the bearly-eyed residents peaked out in curiosity.

Hitch jumped out of the car and slammed the door shut, ready to go, "Hurry up already, we don't got all night!"

Chuck let out a groan and crawled out of his seat, holding the door for support, "Uh fuck, I don't feel too good…"

"You're kidding me!" Hitch snapped, glaring at him in irritation, "Are you seriously gonna fucking hurl?!"

"Just give me a minute." Chuck wheezed, leaning heavily against the car.

 _We don't have a fucking minute, you tub of lard!_ _ **I**_ _don't have a minute._

Hitch glanced up at the apartments, a streak of apprehension cutting through her earlier excitement. Domestic disturbances were one of the most dangerous and unpredictable calls a police officer could get. For all she knew, the disturbance could have escalated into violence or even murder by now. Anything could happen when emotions ran high, so Hitch wanted some backup with her just in case shit went sour. Chuck may be slow and lazy but he was also a solid 230 pounds of salty old cop, and if his friendly demeanor didn't disarm the situation then his sheer bulk would be enough to calm everyone down.

The the distant sound of shouting reached her ears. She glanced back at Chuck and impatiently started to bounce on her heels; one hand discreetly pinching herself to stay grounded. Every second she spent hesitating was a chance for someone to become another statistic, so her brain screamed at her incessantly to hurry up and _do_ something. And so she did.

"Fuck it!" Hitch declared loudly and sprinted into the apartments, ignoring her supervisor's shouts. She ran up the stairs, taking the steps two or three at time, until she found the floor she was looking for.

"Fifth floor, room twelve twenty…" She chanted under her breath, her eyes jumped from door to door, searching for the right numbers.

She found them at the end of the hallway; dull, gold painted metal numbers that were held to the scratched and pitted wood by a single screw. Hitch stopped for a second to catch her breath and collect herself, her authority would have been a bit undercut if she was panting like an overheated dog. Her month off of duty must have affected her more than she thought.

 _Fucking stupid-ass cigarettes! Why do you have to be so good and so bad?_

A loud crash came from inside the apartment followed by muffled yelling. Hitch could tell that there was at least two people inside, and both of them were loud as fuck.

Hitch pounded her fist against the door, making the numbers rattle, "NYPD! Come to the door!"

A moment of silence elapsed before the male voiced his displeasure by bellowing at the top of his lungs, "FUCK OFF PIG BITCH! THIS MY FUCKING HOUSE!"

Any reservation that remained in Hitch's body flared into hot anger. The combination of dismissiveness and disrespect, so expertly manifested into two sentences, had her seeing red. Not bothering to check if the door was unlocked she stepped up, threw her weight into one powerful kick and forced the door open. The rusted numbers flew off and clattered against the tile entrance way, ending their bouncy journey amongst a pile of old footwear. Hitch stomped inside, fully intent on slapping the cuffs on the first dude she laid eyes on. As she searched for the complainants, she noticed how squalid the apartment was. Garbage bags had been thrown haphazardly into a corner, sitting in a puddle of what looked like oil. The grime-caked walls and carpet were home to dozens of skittering roaches, feasting on whatever scraps were on the floor. Pictures had been torn from the walls and left crumpled against the ground.

 _Jesus titty-fucking Christ… It HAD to be a fucking junkie nest._

That revelation did nothing to calm Hitch down, because not only did she now have to somehow wrestle at least one addict into handcuffs, but she'd also have to tear this entire disgusting place apart looking for drugs. There was a high chance that the rest of her night was gonna be spent meticulously digging through trash and cataloging. There was no faster way to kill an adrenaline rush than filing paperwork out for twenty used needles. Gritting her teeth, Hitch zeroed in on the shouting couple and found them screaming at each other in the bedroom.

"Didn' I tell ya to FUCK OFF?! Get out before I fucking crack your skull open!" The male half of the argument turned to face Hitch, his eyes bloodshot and his pupils dilated to an unnatural degree. He wasn't as big as she thought he would be, in fact, he was short enough that Hitch could see eye to eye with him. Still, his tone, his poise, his entire demeanor radiated danger;his tattooed fingers twitched, clenching and unclenching while he glared at Hitch with enough malevolence to make most people squirm.

But Hitch wasn't most people, she was a cop that was two bad days away from losing her shit completely and this grubby tick of a man had no clue how many worms he had just freed from the can with that comment.

"Congratulations!" She spat back at him with sarcastic cheerfulness, pulling her gloves on as her scowl deepened, "You just won a free ride to jail. Turn around and put your hands over your head."

The man's face broke out into a look of stupefied rage, "I ain't goin'. This is _my_ house, bitch."

"This is an apartment." Hitch replied scathingly, waving her hand to encompass the room.

The female half, probably the dude's girlfriend, slid past the bed to stand next to the male, "He said he's not goin'. Nobody called you here, sweetie." Her words left her sore-encrusted mouth like a fountain of rotten honey- slow as hell and full of false sweetness.

Hitch almost gave into the impulse to arrest the female too but instead, as calmly as she could, she barked out her orders, "Well somebody did call, so now both of you are my problem and I'm _not_ in the mood to put up with any shit, so shut up and do what I say before I lose whatever scrap of patience I have left, got it?"

"Oh! I've got an idea Tony!" She clapped the man on his shoulder, making the man's face twitch in from the contact, "We report 'er to Ridley."

"But, didn' Ridley say not to start nothin'?" Tony asked, his full attention on the scraggly woman, "He might get mad…"

Hitch's anger flared again, if they wanted to report her then they'd have to wait until processing, "Hey! What did I just say? I'm not going anywhere until you two are in cuffs, get it?"

Again the two ignored her, and the female subject clenched her brown teeth together and said, "He didn't get mad when that whore Cassidy brought a lawyer last time."

"Yeah," The male, Tony, made deep chuckling sound in agreement before advancing towards Hitch, "Get over here, ya fuckin' pig-Oof!"

A swift knee to the gut stole the breath from Tony's lungs away and before the man could recover Hitch already spun him around and pulled his arm behind his back. She hooked her heel around his calf and tripped him to the floor, her knee braced against his kidneys and her off hand already reaching for her handcuffs.

"FUCKING BITCH!" Tony howled into the musty carpet.

His howl matched the scream that erupted from the female, "GET OFF HIM!"

Just as Hitch managed to clamp the cuffs around one of his wrists the filthy woman threw herself at Hitch and knocked her off. The two rolled across the carpet, creating clouds of dust and spores behind them. For a second the woman had the upper hand against Hitch but as the shock of the sudden assault wore off, it became obvious that Hitch outclassed her. The police officer grabbed her assailant's arm and twisted violently. The filthy woman yelped as Hitch used the hold to pull her to the ground and pin her.

"You HAD to make this harder, didn't you?!" Hitch spat and pulled the taser from her belt and pointed it at the slowly rising Tony, "Stay down or I'll fucking tase you!"

The threat of a 50,000 volt shock did fuck all to dissuade his attack. Tony leapt forward, lunging straight at her with a look of stupid evil splattered across his face. Hitch pulled the trigger and cracked a smile as the electrodes made contact and pierced through his shirt. He dropped to the floor, rigid and stiff.

"MOM! DAD!"

Hitch glanced behind her, and her eyes widened in surprise when she saw a little boy standing in the doorway. The boy looked like he had just stepped out of a refugee camp. His clothes were frayed and filthy, his hair hung from his head in one unwashed clump, and dirt covered every square inch of his waxy skin. Judging from his height, Hitch knew he couldn't be more than five years old.

His wide terrified eyes met her surprised ones and for a moment Hitch could _feel_ the fear that radiated from him. The two stared at each for a few moments before Hitch called out, "Get outside kid! It's not safe for you here."

The kid hesitated in the doorway, obviously unsure whether to follow her directions. He glanced to over to his father, who once again was starting to stand up.

"Kid! Move! Now!" Hitch ordered, packing all of her authority into her tone. There was no telling what Tony would do if he thought his kid's safety was on the line, she needed the boy to be out of harm's way.

The kid bolted like a startled rabbit, and Hitch breathed a sigh of relief. Tony pushed himself up to his feet and took a step toward her, but the electrodes were still embedded in his skin so Hitch just shocked him again, "Stay down for fuck's sake!"

"YOU FUCKING BITCH!" Screamed the woman that she had pinned, "WE'RE GONNA FUCKING KILL YOU!"

The woman redoubled her thrashing, her legs kicking out and pushing off against the floor to try and unseat the cop on her back. She struggled so hard that she bit through her own tongue by accident and continued struggling liked an animal. Off to the side, Tony smartened up and took the opportunity to rip the electrodes out of him. Hitch was losing control of the situation and she knew it, her dwindling selection of non-lethal options was not helping in the least. One subject she could take, but two? She wasn't robocop.

 _Oh shit oh shit oh shit, Chuck where the hell are you?!_

She redoubled her efforts towards pinning the female, trying to get her under control to use a backup zip tie. But the thrashing woman had other ideas, she writhed like a worm until she finally landed a solid elbow into Hitch's side. Hitch flinched in pain and was about to respond in kind when Tony's hairy arm wrapped itself around her neck, and he began to squeeze. Hitch's eyes bulged and she gasped for breath. Acting on impulse, her hand shot down to her gun. She'd lost the upper hand and now if she didn't get him off her, he'd most likely kill her.

"Got you now, little pig bitch!" He laughed mockingly into her ear as he choked her, "I'm gonna twist your fucking head off!"

Her hand wrapped around the grip of her glock and pulled it from its holster. But before she was able to use it, someone grabbed hold of her forearm, she looked down and fear welled inside her head when she saw the woman had twisted around to face her and now held her gun-arm in an iron grip. The woman's lips were pulled back into a sadistic smile, showing off her bloody teeth and torn tongue.

"I got her Tony! Break her neck already!"

"I'm fucking _trying_."

Hitch's vision was blocked off as his hand covered her eyes and forehead and, before she understood what was going on, the man begun pulling. Hard. She felt pain flare up and down her spine as he slowly forced her head to the side into an awkward angle. She tried to scream but no air could escape the chokehold he had her in.

 _I… Can't… Breath... Help…_

Her thoughts came in slow motion, as if her brain was trudging through a mire of thick mud. She could feel her fingers begin to lose feeling, little spikes of pain lancing up and down her limbs as her body shut down. Even as out of it as she was now, she understood what was happening. She was dying. And that scared her senseless.

Her body began to spasm violently, mere seconds from losing conscious. The spasms intensified, every muscle in her body tensed and contracted, from her jaw to her fingers- _BANG_

"AH FUCK! SHE FUCKING SHOT ME!"

 _Gun. GUN! You have a gun! USE IT!_

She focused in on that one clear thought, ordering her body to follow her pleas. It took all of her effort to force her muscles to move but it worked. She jerked the trigger and the pistol, which the female had neglected to point away from herself in her shock, fired again. And again.

"STEPH!" Tony shouted and, without realizing it, accidentally loosened his hold on Hitch's neck.

Hitch greedily gulped down a lungful of air. Suddenly her brain kicked into full force, her body humming with painful energy. Adrenaline flooded through her system again, making her almost giddy. Tony realized his mistake and tightened his chokehold, but was left wide eyed at the sight of a gun barrel not two inches away from him, Hitch fired so close to her head the gunshot took her hearing, and the hot gas rolled off the man, singeing her nape. Tony jerked, and his arms limply fell away.

Disoriented and gasping for breath, Hitch pushed herself up and away from the two junkies. She managed to stagger forward a few steps before collapsing on the floor, a violent coughing fit overwhelming her.

 _Holy fucking shit… I'm okay. I'm okay. I'm okay._

She rolled herself onto her side and used the bed to pull her aching body into sitting position. Her ear rang dully, a constant reminder of how close she just got to snuffing it.

A groan caught her attention and she glanced back at the two people she'd just shot. The female lay unmoving on the floor, her blood pooling on the carpet. Leaning closer, Hitch could see where her rounds had struck. Two bullet holes decorated her clavicle and jawline, the wounds bright pink and already covered in a light blanket of dust. The woman was missing part of her hand, likely from holding it in front of herself in a desperate but useless attempt to stop the third 9mm slug. The round had utterly destroyed the hand, tearing her fingers off and splitting it down the middle before tumbling through and almost decapitating her.

Hitch coughed again, tearing her eyes away from the tennisball-sized hole in the woman's neck and focused on the male. That turned out to be an even bigger mistake. The hastily fired bullet had entered through the right cheek bone, collapsing the eye into superheated gelatin before exiting through the top of his skull. The force of the blast left his head tilted back and his remaining eye stared dully into the ceiling. Following the wound angle, hitch found blood splatter with bits of grey brain matter across the grimy ceiling, painting the encrusted stucco dark brown.

"Fuck." Hitch swore under her breath, grinding her teeth as her earlier anger turned in on her. She shouldn't have gone in half-cocked like that. She should have waited for her partner. Two people were dead.

"Fuck! Fuck! _Fuck!_ " she yelled, slamming her fist into the nearest wall. She hung her head, and shut her eyes in shame and frustration.

She felt so fucking _stupid_. Why did she think that was a good idea? She'd never would have done that a month ago, back when she was still partnered with Marlo. Simple, goody-two shoes, by the book Marlo. He wouldn't have let this happen. He wouldn't have escalated this into violence. He wouldn't have killed these people. He could have come up with another way. But no, Marlo wasn't here, she was. And this was her fault.

"Uhgh."

Hitch's head shot up when she heard that moan. She watched in disbelief as Tony's mouth twitched and opened for another moan.

"Oh shit!" Hitch gasped and jumped into action. She holstered her weapon and pulled herself over to the man, almost tripping over herself in her haste. Words and thoughts jumbled together in her head as the movement made her a little lightheaded for a moment. Then her training kicked in. She took a deep breath and did her best to seal the exit and entrance wound, using the cleanest scraps of clothing she could find.

She grabbed hold of her shoulder radio and reported in, "Dispatch, this is officer one six eight. I got a ten fiftyfour sierra six on my hands. Same address as the ten fiftytwo delta, over."

"Ten four, officer. Report on condition. Over."

"I have a white male with a gunshot wound to the head. I gave him first-aid but he needs an ambulance right fucking now." Hitch's voice begun to shake, "Shots were fired. The female half…"

She took another deep breath, and reminded herself to not glance back at the bleeding corpse a foot away from her, "The female didn't make it."

"Ten four, stay with the victim. I have EMT's and a backup car on the way. They're nearby, ETA five minutes."

Hitch swore. She wasn't sure that the guy had five minutes.

"Hitch! What the fuck happened?!"

She glanced up at the doorway. Filling up the entire doorway and gasping for breath stood Chuck, boggling as he took in the scene.

For a moment, Hitch's earlier anger rushed back to her, "What took you so fucking long?!"

Chuck gaped at her for a moment before firing back with, "Why'd you run off?!"

"I-" Hitch stuttered, trying to come up with a good answer but finding none. She had an answer to be sure, she just couldn't believe how it had been enough to make her act so dangerously.

He ignored her and hurried over to kneel beside Tony and inspected her handiwork, "Was this you?"

Hitch nodded, "He got me in a chokehold while I was trying to arrest the female. He was trying to break my neck."

"What about her?"

"I tried to shoot him but she grabbed my hand. I reacted."

Chuck stared at her for moment, before shaking his head and shifting his attention to the dying man bleeding in front of him. The two officers quietly waited for the ambulance to arrive, neither of them able to do more for Tony beside hold his head steady. Hitch didn't put much stock in prayer, but she wanted desperately to do something. She quietly mumbled to herself, not even knowing to whom or for what she was praying for.

And, like many other prayers, hers fell on deaf ears. With one final death rattle, Tony went still.

Hitch checked for a pulse and, finding none, leaned back and let out a quiet, frustrated hiss, "Shit."

Chuck hung his head, "It's probably for the best. No telling how much of him was left anyhow."

Hitch tried her best to calm herself down but her heart hammered away in her chest. Feelings of guilt, anger, and even relief twisted together into a thousand pound weight that sunk to the pit of her stomach. This wasn't the first time she watched someone die, it was inevitable in her line of work, but that didn't make it any easier to see. Especially when she was the one that shot him.

"You okay there?" Chuck asked quietly.

Hitch covered her face to hide her frustration, the words leaving her lips drenched in fake apathy, "Yeah, I'm good. Play stupid games, win stupid prizes right?"

 _The chief is gonna tear me apart for this. First tour back and I bring him two bodies? And after the shit I pulled to get my job back too. Crap, Jean is gonna be_ _ **pissed**_ _when he finds out... I need a fucking cigarette._

"Hey, Hitch. The fuck is that?"

She shook herself free from the depressing thoughts that circled around her mind like sharks and looked down to where Chuck was pointing. Under Tony's ratty shirt she spotted a line of scar tissue that crisscrossed across the man's collarbone.

"Woah. That's a bigass scar." She gasped. Chuck snorted in agreement and carefully pulled the shirt away from it. The two cops starred in surprise as the scarring just… kept going. Tony's chest was covered in scars, some of them coming together to form crude images of people or faces. Other scars spelled out words or phases, and though Hitch found it difficult to read the faded tissue, she could make out one of them without any issue.

Carved deeply over the man's stomach were the words-

"Harvester." Hitch whispered, confusion clear in her tone and expression.

"Oh, this is some _fucked_ up shit." Chuck breathed as he stared down with wide eyes, "This some Jonestown, Heaven's gate shit."

Hitch was about to agree when she heard something that sounded like… sizzling? She turned toward the sound and gasped. The woman's body was moving, her fingers and toes twitching and curling as steam wafted from her wounds.

"Oh my god…" Chuck gaped at the blood evaporating from the carpet, escaping into the air and disappearing from view.

Both of them were too transfixed by the woman's steaming corpse to notice Tony's body begin to do the same. Hitch noticed it only when the scent of cooking meat hit her nose like freight train. She yelped and jumped back in fear when she saw Tony's eye melt and bubble away into steam. The cop stood pressed against the wall, her whole body shaking like a leaf in the wind.

 _This isn't happening. This isn't happening. This can't be happening. This-_

"MOVE DAMMIT!" Chuck shouted, grabbing hold of her arm and pulling her out of the room. She snapped back into reality and managed to keep her balance and match Chuck's speed. The two of them sprinted full speed and didn't stop running until they got out of the apartment. Hitch spun on her heels and slammed the door shut, her breath coming hard, fast, and painful through her bruised throat.

Chuck was already on the radio with dispatch, rapidly relaying what they just saw to an overwhelmed dispatcher.

"Hey! What's happening?"

Hitch nearly jumped out of her skin when a tiny hand tugged expectantly on her trouser leg. The little boy from earlier stood beside her, so it looked he had followed her orders and waited outside. Seeing the boy's face gazing up at her in worry was like being punched in the gut. What the hell was she supposed to say? 'Don't go in there, I killed your parents'?

She didn't have the guts to drop a bomb like that on a kid, so she just skipped that step, "Something's happened. Don't go near the door."

"Why?" Of course the kid had to ask that, "Where's my mom?"

"She's gonna stay inside for now." Hitch swallowed the lump in her throat, focusing on getting as far away from the bodies as she could, "Come with me, we're gonna wait outside for a little bit, okay?"

The boy looked at her for a while before, to Hitch's massive relief, nodding in agreement. She leaned down and scooped the boy up in her arms, just in case she had to run. Call her paranoid but she had a gut feeling that there was more to the two dead bodies than just drug abuse or spontaneous combustion. And that something was probably dangerous.

She jogged over to Chuck and said, "I'm gonna wait outside with him until backup gets here."

"Where'd you get the kid form?" He asked, not really in the mindset to put two and two together.

"His parents are inside." Hitch replied gravely.

"Good thinking then. I'll stay up here and make sure nothing gets worse."

Hitch thanked him and made her way outside, the kid clutched tightly in her arms. She shouldered the door open and stepped out, taking a lungful of cool air.

She jogged over to her police cruiser, opened one of the back doors, and gently placed the boy into the back seat, "You'll be safe in here. Just stay inside until I or another officer comes and gets you, got it?"

The boy looked around, his previous fear and concern forgotten as he took in all the switches, dials, and equipment inside the cruiser. Hitch shut the door and leaned heavily against it, slowly sliding down the metal until she was sitting on the cold ground. She let out an exhausted " _Fuuuuck_ " and resisted the need to curl up into a ball and hide away.

"Ok Hitch…" She whispered to herself, "Get a hold of yourself. Work with what you know. Stop fucking putting your feelings into the equation!"

 _Ok, so why the hell did their bodies start steaming? Think dammit. What else does that? Was it something in the room? Can it spread? And what the hell does 'Harvester' mean?_

She sat straight up, her large eyes as wide as dinner plates. She didn't have the answers she needed, but she knew someone who probably did. She dug around in her pockets until she found her smartphone. Dialing the number she now had memorized better than her mother's, she waited impatiently for Jean to pick up.

 _Answer already you horsefaced pri-_

"Hello?"

"Jean! What happens when Titans die?!" She jumped right into the heart of the matter, too wound-up to deal with pleasantries.

"Huh? Oh. They kinda fade away in a big steam cloud-"

"Steam? You said steam right?" She interrupted him.

"Yes, yes I did." Jean confirmed, his voice full of caution, "Hitch what's going on?"

She bit her lip, and whispered into the phone so that no one could overhear her, "I found two of them."

"..."

"Hello?" Hitch asked, somehow managing to feel a stab of annoyance at Jean's silence even in her current agitated state.

"Where are you? I'm coming to pick you up." He sounded serious, steely even. His answer threw her off balance, she wasn't sure if he believed her or not but she definitely wasn't expecting him to react like someone looking for their drunk friend.

"I'm in the middle of a shift. I can't go anywhere for another few hours…" She told him, "Longer if the sergeant wants me to go to the hospital."

"Wait. Are you hurt?"

Hitch licked her lips awkwardly, was that concern in his voice? Or was she just imagining it? "I'm fine. But seriously, I fo-"

She paused suddenly, the sound of police sirens filled the air. The backup was getting close.

"I gotta go, I'll call you as soon as I get off." She said, almost shouting to be heard over the sirens, and hung up.

The next half an hour seemed like a blur to her, her entire perception of the world becoming dazed and confusing. First the paramedics cornered her against her car and begun examining her neck and side. All the while asking question after question after question. She answered them as best she could but while one medic listened, the other would take the opportunity to shine a bright light in her eyes or startle her by trying to apply hydrogen peroxide to scraps she didn't even know she had. At one point, a rookie cop ran up to her and shoved a breathalyzer in her face without even a word of warning. Her confused and surprised expression prompted the cop to ask if she had sustained a head injury, which did nothing but spur both medics into a frenzy of light-blinding, pulse-taking, and 'how many fingers am I holding up?'-ing.

While she was stuck being checked over by the diligent medics, the new cops quickly cordoned off the apartment and checked on all the other tenants on the same floor as well as the owners of the rooms right above and below where Hitch had fired her gun. Thankfully no bullets had managed to penetrate through the floor and roof, and while the residents were understandably angry about being woken up by gunshots, no one else was hurt during the shooting. So at least the night hadn't become a complete disaster. All of this news was relied to her by Chuck, who had stepped outside to check on her.

After being declared fit and only a little bit lightheaded by the medics, Chuck stepped up and gave her a few words of assurance along the lines of, "It was a good shoot, Hitch." and "No way IA* would give you any shit about it." before confiscating her service weapon for the lab geeks to examine. The next thing she knew she was in the back of the ambulance, on the way to a hospital so that a doctor could pull her blood for a toxicology report.

"What hospital are we going to?" She asked the medic seated next to her.

"Washington Memorial." He answered, still scribbling away on the clipboard in his hands, "Do have someone that can pick you up?"

Hitch thought for a moment before nodding, "Yeah, I do."

"You should give them a call then while we're on the road." The medic advised her, "Getting your blood drawn takes like fifteen minutes tops."

Hitch thanked him for the advice, pulled out her phone, and dialed Jean's number for the second time that night.

"That was quick. What happened to waiting until your shift ends?" Jean asked her, a sliver of teasing in his tone.

"Can you pick me up from Washington Memorial Hospital in about half an hour?"

"Sure I ca- wait, you said you were fine. What's going on?"

"Look just... do me this favor and I promise I'll tell you everything later, Ok?" She mumbled. She wasn't sure how to interpret the concern Jean was showing for her, but supposed it was normal for criminals to care for, however loosely that word could be applied, accomplices.

"Yeah, okay. I'm on my way." Jean answered, then hung up. Hitch anxiously chewed on her bottom lip and subconsciously rubbed her forearm.

 _He's probably just protecting his investment. Can't have been easy getting my psych eval pushed through so quickly._

The medic looked up from his clipboard, "Everything okay there?"

"Yeah!" Hitch exclaimed a little too forceful, giving the paramedic a strained smile after he raised an questioning eyebrow, "A uh, friend is coming to pick me up."

"Huh. You're lucky to have such good friends." He said, matching her smile, "None of my friends answer their phones in the middle of the night."

Hitch forced a laugh, "Yeah, I guess I am."

* * *

 _ **Two hours later… Washington Memorial Hospital**_

* * *

Jean leafed through another fashion magazine, his careful eye quietly examining the new standards in New York's ever changing fashion game.

 _Looks like someone dug up the 80's again. Jesus, are those zebra pattern jeans?_ _Ugh. Maybe the titan's have a point…_

"Jean. Is there a Jean here?" A hospital orderly addressed the waiting room monotonously, his eyes glued to the papers in his hands.

Jean snapped the magazine shut and tossed it to the side before walking over to the nurse, "That's me. Is-"

"Come with me please, sir." The orderly intoned as he trudged back out of the room, "Your friend is waiting for you."

"Thank you, I appreciate it." Jean fell into step behind him. The orderly led him down a corridor crowded by doctors and nurses hustling back and forth, hurriedly muttering to each other about this patient or that patient. Unable to keep from glancing into every room they passed, Jean was astounded by the amount of people that were here. Each room was filled to capacity, and sometimes to overcapacity, with patients. And while he spotted plenty of the usual sick and infirm, he also noticed that the mass majority of them were here because of some sort of injury.

"Looks like you guys have your hands full here." Jean stated absently, suddenly extremely grateful that the 104th had Marco to take care of them.

"Tell me about it." The barrel-chested orderly grumbled, "This is only about half of 'em too. We had to transfer most people to other hospitals."

Before Jean could reply, his guide stopped in front of a small wooden door labeled 'examination' and thumbed towards the door, "She's inside."

"Thanks." Jean said, giving the man a tired smile right before he entered, "Hope you have a good shift, man."

A breath of relief escaped Jean as soon as he closed the door behind himself. Hitch sat on the the examination table, idly kicking her feet and chewing on her lip. She looked bored and irritated but, more importantly, she looked unharmed. He noticed that her police jacket had been thrown across the back of an office chair and that she also shed her Kevlar vest, leaving her in a clean, dark blue t-shirt bearing the NYPD shield across her chest. Said T-shirt was the only thing about her was clean, the rest of her clothes looked like she'd scrubbed them with a dirty dust filter

While Jean was busy examining her from a far with a critical eye, Hitch finally noticed him. Her large amber eyes widened briefly before she hopped down from the table and begun collecting her things, all the while muttering, "What the hell took you so long? You live on the other side of the city or what?"

"No, actually I was here at least an hour ago. I thought I was waiting on your doctor."

Hitch scoffed, "Nah, I'm done. Let's get of here, I got a ton of important shit to tell you."

Jean nodded in agreement, opened the door, and followed Hitch out to the hall. Jean had to lengthen his strides to catch up to Hitch's quick pace. She seemed to know exactly where she was going and she frequently took him down shortcuts through restricted areas. None of the staff minded, in fact some of them stopped what they were doing for a moment to say hello to her. Most of them seemed happy to see her.

"Officer Dreyse! Wait!"

Jean turned to see who was calling out. A doctor was jogging down the hall, his breath coming in loud puffs as he did so. Hitch rolled her eyes and stopped walking, her arms crossed across her chest, "Doctor West. Whaddya need?"

The doctor came to a halt in front of them and collected himself, "You left before I could finish giving you my recommendations."

Jean looked to Hitch, eyebrow raised in amusement. It seemed that Hitch had really, really wanted to get out of here.

"I was stuck in there for more than hour." Hitch said, "And you told me that I'm fine so…"

The doctor vigorously shook his head, making his turtle shell glasses rock dangerously, "I said that I couldn't find any serious injuries, but I still wanted to talk to whoever was picking you up before you left."

Jean stepped in at this point, he could tell that Hitch was eager to blow this doctor off and just leave but the last thing he needed was for her to keel over and die on him, "Well, I'm all ears doc. I'm Jean by the way." He said and held out his hand.

The young doctor accepted Jean's offered handshake, squeezing a bit harder than what was considered polite, "Hello, good to meet you. My name's _Doctor_ West." Jean couldn't help but notice the emphasis that the man had put on his title. Almost as if he was trying to impress someone.

The two separated, and Jean jumped on the opportunity to test the social waters, "Pleasure to meet you doctor. And thank you for taking such good care of Hitch; You don't know how worried I was when I got the call."

The doctor's smile faltered for a second, and Jean snickered internally at the small victory. His hunch had been correct. The young doctor's interest in Hitch was more than just professional, and Jean had now been labeled as a potential rival. Jean couldn't fault the logic behind it. After all, who would most people call to pick them up from the hospital?

 _Oh, this is going to be fun._

Dr. West cleared his throat and resumed his former cheerful mood, "Yes, well. I have concerns about some of the injuries that Hitch has suffered. In particular, the fact she almost lost conscious during the assault is very worrying."

Jean nodded in agreement, "That does sound concerning. As her doctor, what would you recommend?"

Hitch gave him a suspicious look and Jean responded with a disarming smile and a wink, turning his head to hide the action from the now disgruntled doctor.

The doctor turned to her and said, "I would feel better if you stayed with us here. At least for the rest of the night. That way we can monitor your condition more effectively. After all, you can never play it too safe when it comes to potential head trauma. By no means should you be left alone for at least eight hours."

"I'm-"

"She won't be alone." Jean responded, unable to resist scoring the winning goal in this conversation, "I promise you, I won't let her out of my sight."

The doctor stood with his mouth agape for a whole second, before answering, "I suppose...I suppose that would be satisfactory."

The sour and impatient look on Hitch's face was now fixed directly on Jean. He could tell that she wasn't amused by his performance. He'd wait until they were outside before letting her in on his little game.

The pair excused themselves and walked away, leaving the disappointed doctor glaring daggers at Jean's back. The two didn't talk until they pulling out of the hospitals parking lot in Jean's bright orange sports car.

"Your place or mine?" Jean asked suddenly.

Hitch's wide-eyed look of surprise quickly morphed into one of narrow-eyed suspicion, "What are you talking about?"

"Would you rather head to your place or mine?" Jean repeated seriously, "Dr. West said that you can't be left alone for at least eight hours, so I'm offering to keep an eye on you for tonight."

She blinked in astonishment, not really sure of what to say. Jean patiently waited for her to make her decision. He had no intention of leaving her unattended tonight because, as fun as it was poking at her jealous suitor, Dr. West did make his concern for her health clear to Jean. No good ever happened from ignoring a doctor's orders.

Hitch rolled her eyes and let out a defeated huff, "You're not gonna drop this, are you?"

"Nope." Jean gave the last syllable a little _pop_ for effect, chuckling quietly when she swore lightly under her breath.

"Your place then." Hitch sullenly declared. She crossed her legs and lazily reclined on the smooth Italian leather of her seat. After a few minutes of quiet driving, she puckishly added, "But only if I get to watch you throw out whatever model you have waiting for you back there."

Jean chuckled and shook his head, "I'm going to have to disappoint you then. She's staying at my Soho apartment tonight."

Hitch snorted loudly, and Jean was delighted to see a smile eclipse her earlier grimace, "Damn. Seeing that would have cheered me right up."

"Should I be concerned that you're starting to act jealous around me?" Jean teased, smirking sideways at her.

"I'm acting jealous?!" Hitch scoffed, "Then what do you call that shit you pulled back in the hospital?"

"That…" Jean paused and held up a forefinger to emphasize the pause, "That was me having a little fun at the good doctor's expense. It had nothing to do with you."

"Mhhmm." Hitch hummed and grinned chescherly at him, "Totally. You just happened to poke fun at a guy that was trying to hit on me."

"No, I happened to poke fun at a doctor that was trying to flirt with his patient." Jean rebutted lightly, "I was doing my civil duty."

Hitch gave him a pointed look before bursting into laughter, which prompted Jean smile and laugh along with her. Their moment of levity passed into a comfortable silence as Jean drove back to his home.

Once again Jean marveled at how quickly the two of them managed to form a sort of easy partnership. Normally he thought of his marks as little more than… marks. They were walking talking lockboxes that he picked apart with clever lies and false affection. No tool would be spared in his search for information and the talented con-artist could fake any emotion, from joy to hate to love. He wielded his smile like Mikasa wielded her knife, the only real difference between the two was that Jean didn't leave a trail of bodies and grieving mothers when he worked. And while he could not deny that he was using Hitch, the idea of treating her like just another asset did not sit right with him.

His gaze flashed up to the rearview mirror where he discreetly observed the sarcastic police officer that was lounging in his passenger seat. She rested her elbow on the car door and her slight chin was cupped in her hand as she watched the buildings flash by the window. They were getting close to his apartment now, and outside the cracked walls and peeling paint of the Bronx gave way to Manhattan's brightly decorated coffee shops and polished glass buildings. Unlike the rest of the 104th, Jean wasn't shy about spending his money on lavish accommodations. The apartment he lived in cost half a million on the open market, but he managed to convince the former owner to sell to him at fraction of that price. The video showing the owner pushing his girlfriend out of the 12th story window really helped motivate the sale.

He pulled into the underground parking garage that connected to the apartment, quietly parked the car, and stepped out of the bright orange vehicle. Hitch followed behind him hesitantly as he lead the way to the elevator; but she let out an appreciative _hmm_ after Jean hit the button for the 12th floor.

"Couldn't afford the penthouse, huh?" She chirped teasingly, another catty smirk on her face.

"Must you hit me when I'm down?" He replied, holding his hand over his heart as if she had offended him, "I'm trying my best you know."

"And your best can't even get you a penthouse…"

The elevator ding sounded before Jean could reply. The unlikely duo stepped out and Jean pointed out his door, "Here we are." He announced as he unlocked and held the door open for her.

The apartment could be described accurately in three words: classy, spacious, and subtle. From the dark hardwood floors to the demure but stylish furniture, his place looked amazing. Blue and cream walls felt almost regal, and an L-shaped navy blue couch sat across from the flat screen TV. She stepped inside and looked around, suddenly feeling underdressed and out of place in her mold-covered uniform. Jean watched her explore with a knowing smirk on his face. He once felt the same mixture of embarrassment and admiration the first time he stayed over at a rich friend's house back in 5th grade. It was nice to know that he was on the receiving end of the admiration this time.

"Are you hungry?" He asked, shutting the door behind him.

Hitch nodded absently, her attention focused on the view of Manhattan outside his floor-to-ceiling windows. He joined her for a moment and found himself subconsciously searching for the _Freedom_ , hoping to catch a glimpse of the place. He knew that the hope was both misplaced and irrational, for Jean had been trying to find it ever since he moved here years ago. Too many buildings stood in the way, their lights shining bright to banish any trace of natural darkness from the streets and skylines of the city.

Jean blinked and turned to his guest. The thinking of the _Freedom_ reminded him of the reason Hitch was standing in his apartment. He gently touched her arm to get her attention causing the woman to tear her eyes away from the view and look at him like a startled animal. She calmed down immediately, and covered up for the awkward response like she always did. With a joke.

"Hmm. Full marks on the view. But that painting over there…" She jerked her thumb over her shoulder to indicate which one she was talking about, "Throws the whole place off. Too much blue."

Jean chuckled lightly, "I'll have to have a talk with my designer then. I was thinking of replacing all the chairs with beanbags, give it a real millennial vibe."

Hitch scrunched up her face and made a loud gagging sound in response.

Jean snickered loudly before returning to the matters at hand, "You want to eat something before you tell me whatever it was that you wanted to tell me?"

Hitch nodded eagerly, "Hell yeah. My stomach feels like I haven't eaten in days."

"Alright then. I'll throw something together. It should only take about half an hour, so make yourself at home." He gestured broadly to the room and excused himself. A moment later he was busy tying an apron on to avoid damaging his dress shirt and pants, while simultaneously running through the list of recipes in his head. While he wasn't a sous chef by any means, Jean had spent almost every evening of his childhood helping his grandmother in the kitchen, and he made sure to continue practicing the skills she had passed down to him.

He was about to get started when he noticed Hitch leaning on the counter and watching him with a solemn expression. He arched his eyebrow and asked, "What's up?"

"Nothin'." She drawled, her amber-eyed gaze jumping away from him, "Just trying to keep my mind occupied, is all."

The con-artist nodded and continued his work, neatly arranging his ingredients and tools on the counter, "You should rest for a bit if you're having trouble focusing."

Hitch frowned, "I don't wanna get crap all over your couch." She picked at one of the myriad of stains on her uniform self-consciously.

Seeing her discomfort Jean made a snap decision, hoping that the already jumpy woman wouldn't take it the wrong way, "You can use the shower while you wait, and I'm pretty sure I can find some fresh clothes for you."

He was surprised that she didn't immediately treat his suggestion with her early suspicion and reluctance, but instead she nodded and disappeared from the room.

 _Huh, that's interesting. She must really hate dirt._

* * *

 _ **A few minutes later…**_

* * *

Hitch sat with her back pressed up against the corner of the shower wall, her arms wrapped around her legs and her face buried in her knees. Hot water streamed down her body, highlighting the bruising that decorated her neck like a macabre pendent. Her shoulders shook as she muffled the sobs escaping from inside her. In the back of her mind she was grateful that the sound of the running shower would conceal her blubbering cries.

She didn't know how long she'd been crying for, but she knew that it had been long overdue. In under two months, her entire world had been turned upside down and mercilessly shaken, like a rat caught by an overzealous terrier. She had gone from chasing down criminals with Marlo, to colluding with a gangster to protect the city (and herself) from being torn apart by man-eating monsters. Hitch sniffled loudly and wiped water away from her face, wincing when she caught the harsh scent of gunpowder on her hand.

 _Why me? Why do I have to be the one to fix this mess? I don't know what to do anymore, everything's so fucked up and crazy. Damn it Marlo, why did you have to be the one that-_

She hugged her knees tighter to her shaking body and clenched her eyes shut as another wave of despair filled her head with flashes of lightning and a deep rumbling made the hair on her neck stand straight.

 _No. Please. I don't want to go back…_

Hitch jammed her nails into her calf, every twist and turn sent up a beacon of pain throughout her body. She forced herself to focus on that pain and that cruel sting was enough to bring her back to reality. When she opened her eyes she was surprised to see a thin trickle of blood flowing down her leg and disappear down the drain.

"Shit." She hissed.

Hitch pushed herself to her feet and quickly finished rinsing herself off before shutting off the water. Once she stepped out of the shower, she grabbed a handful of toilet paper and pressed it against the line of half-moon cuts on her calf. Hitch wasn't worried about the bleeding itself (she'd cut herself much worse the last time she shaved her legs) but she sure as hell didn't want to leave blood splatter on Jean's bathroom mat. That would lead to many more awkward questions, and might even give the horse-faced confidence man another reason to doubt her. Plus it was kinda rude.

Satisfied that her calf had finished leaking blood, Hitch wiped the condensation from the mirror and inspected herself. She looked tired and sick. Her skin had gone a shade more pale making the heavy dark lines under her eyes stand out, giving her an almost perfect heroin chic look. She snorted lightly at the thought and grabbed a nearby hairbrush to get her hair under control. She knew that if she let it dry without a through brushing it would become as tangled and dense as a jungle.

 _Yeah… Gotta look good for my dinner with a monster-hunting gangster._

She let out a sharp bark of laughter. Somehow laughing and mocking the feelings that drove her to tears just before made her feel better. At least for a little bit.

A knock on the door interrupted her brushing and musings.

"Hey Hitch!" Jean called from behind the door, "Dinner's almost ready."

"I'll be right out. Did you find something for me to wear?"

"No but I ordered a stunning evening gown from Amazon. Should be here sometime in the next day or two."

That earned a singular quiet 'hah!' from the her, "That's nice but what am I supposed to wear to tonight's dinner then?"

"Would a pair of sweatpants and one of my t-shirts work?"

"Fuck why not?" She called back, shrugging to herself. She'd already cried in the man's shower and almost bled all over his snow white bath mat. The normal house guest rules had been thrown away long go.

Hitch quickly wrapped a towel around herself and pulled the door open, where she gave Jean a grateful smile as he handed her the bundle of clothing.

"Thanks."

"No problem."

By the time she dressed, packed away her uniform, and entered the kitchen; Jean was already seated at the counter, a steaming white pot resting on a coaster in front of him. Hitch hopped onto the stool across from him and greedily sniffed the air.

"Fuck, that smells good." She sighed happily.

Jean smirked and pulled the lid from the pot, revealing a nest of spaghetti and meatballs drenched in meat sauce. Hitch's eyes followed his hands he heaped a solid amount of the stuff onto her plate and, before he even finished serving, Hitch started digging in.

 _Holy shit, it's delicious!_

"So? What's the verdict?" Jean asked as he replaced the lid and searched for his fork, unaware that he'd left the utensil on his plate and unknowingly dumped a bunch of spaghetti over it.

Hitch took a few moments to finish chewing her mouthful of food before answering him with an unimpressed shrug, "Eh. It's okay."

For a moment Jean actually looked a little disappointed so Hitch winked at him to let him know that she was joking, and with his pride satisfied, the rest of dinner went by without a word. Hitch was much too busy shoving forkful after forkful of food in her mouth at a rapid pace while Jean ate in much more calm and collected manner. He ended up eating only half of his share, probably due to the fact that he probably wasn't used to eating dinner at four am. Hitch on the other hand polished off her first plate in record time and managed to down another serving albeit at a slower pace.

Warm, clean, and fed for the first time that night, Hitch let out a content sigh and lazily slumped over on the counter, her head resting in her arms, "That was really good...", she purred before letting out a happy but quiet burp.

"Good thing I made enough for seconds then," He said, while watching his house guest with a concerned frown on his face. This continued until Hitch looked up and caught him staring.

"What? Do I have sauce on my face or something?" She asked.

Jean shook his head, "No, nothing like that. I was wondering how you got those bruises around your neck. Do they have anything to do with why you called me earlier?"

She swallowed and grimaced harshly, before raising and leaning heavily on her elbows, "No shit, Jean. I wouldn't have called you at all if titans weren't involved."

"Then tell me what happened then." He encouraged, "Start from the beginning, and don't leave out any detail, please."

Hitch did as she was asked, she told Jean all about how she and her partner had arrived to a domestic disturbance call, how she rushed off alone like an idiot headfirst into a fight, how Tony got the drop on her and tried to break her neck with his bare hands, and how she had to shoot both of them.

"I still can't believe I did that… I mean, I know I did but…" She broke off, hanging her head and running her fingers through her still damp hair.

"It doesn't feel real yet?" Jean offered sympathetically.

"Yeah, I guess so." Hitch mumbled miserably, not bothering to look up at him.

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, I'd have shot them too." Jean admitted solemnly, "Just be happy that it was them not-"

His words of comfort were interrupted by the early 2000's pop music blasting from Hitch's cellphone. Automatically she pulled the phone out her pocket and checked the screen. Chuck had sent her a text saying,

 _Captain wants to talk with us tomorrow at 12. He's pissed off. -C_

Hitch's fingers flew as she typed a response while Jean patiently waited for her to finish.

 _How's the kid? -H_

 _He's good. Lady from ACS* picked him up after you left. Right before the lab geeks showed up in hazmat. -C_

Hitch's frown deepened when she read that, and quickly texted back,

 _Hazmat? What for? -H_

 _The sarge got worried about what happened to the bodies. He thinks the subjects might have been exposed to a biological or chemical agent, so we're quarantining them in the morgue before we do the autopsy. Btw how you feeling? -C_

 _Nope all good here -H_

"Everything okay?" Jean asked, "You got a sour look on your face."

"Huh?" Hitch glanced up suddenly, she was so engrossed in her phone that she had almost forgotten that she wasn't alone in the room, "Yeah, everything's fine. Looks like our secret is safe, my sergeant thinks that the titans were victims of a bioweapon of some kind so they're holding off on the autopsy for a while."

"Autopsy? On what?"

Hitch rolled her eyes in exasperation, "The titans, dummy."

"Real titans don't leave corpses behind when they die, Hitch." Jean told her, his brows furrowed in thought, "Are you sure that you saw-"

"OF COURSE I'M SURE!" Hitch shouted, almost crushing her phone from how hard she suddenly gripped it, "I'm not fucking crazy Jean! I saw them, shrivel up like two fucking steaming meat-filled grapes in the sun! And don't you dare fucking tell me that I'm seeing things 'cause my partner saw them too!"

"I'm not saying your crazy." Jean assured her, trying his best to placate her, "I was just trying to get all the facts in order. I've never heard of a titan leaving a corpse behind after it dies, so your account just doesn't fit in with the rest the intel we have."

Hitch didn't answer him. She was fuming. Every muscle in her body felt tense and she could tell that her shoulders were shaking. Her entire being was trembling with frustration and anger. Everybody thought she crazy. The department, her friends, and now even her partner-in-crime doubted her sanity. Not like he had any right to judge her, the man spent his time searching for monsters, if anybody here was crazy it'd be him.

"Hey."

Hitch jumped in shock as Jean reached out and took hold of her hand. Her first impulse was to punch him right in his smarmy face but the somber look in his brown eyes stopped her.

"Listen to me." He stressed, "I don't think you're insane. I don't think you're seeing things. So tell me what else you saw and I'll work with it."

Hitch bit her lip again, a little ashamed that she her temper got the better of her again, and mumbled, "There was a kid there, he looked like nobody had been taking care of him for years. We managed to get him out and over to child services."

"That's good. Anything else stand out to you?"

Hitch's eyes lit up as epiphany struck, "Harvester!"

Jean blinked, "What?"

"The male titan." Hitch explained excitedly, "He had images and words cut into his body. His whole torso and stomach were covered in scars. I couldn't make out most of them but I definitely saw one that spelled out 'harvester' carved into him."

"Harvester… That sounds like something I can dig into to, Excellent." Jean smiled at her, seemingly happy with information she'd inadvertently gathered for him, "I'll let you know if this lead bears fruit. Thanks."

"Just remember our deal, Jean. No gangland shit." Hitch yawned loudly, stretched her arms over her head, and arched her back contently, "Hey, you promised to look after me for tonight right?"

"I did, and?" He said while tilting his head and narrowing his eyes in confusion

"Mind if I crash on your couch?" Hitch asked, "I had a big day and I'll probably have to show up at the station early tomorrow for my post-shooting interview."

"Of course. I'll get you some sheets and a pillow to sleep on."

Hitch only had to wait a few minutes before Jean tossed a bundle of blankets and pillows on his couch, and gestured grandly at it, "You're room is prepared, Madam."

"Why thank you, good sir." She giggled before dropping herself limply on the pillows, "Oh god this coach is soooo comfortable."

"That's why I bought it." Jean told her, as her grabbed his jacket and begun to don it, "I'll be right back."

"Where you headed?" Hitch asked idly while wrapping herself in a blanket.

"I'm gonna pull a favor and see if I can have a friend of mine sit in on your interview tomorrow." The con-man offhandedly stated.

Hitch's blank unbelieving stare prompted him to explain, "I'd rather not risk you getting canned anytime soon, we still have a lot of work ahead of us."

And with that Jean excused himself and stepped out, leaving a conflicted Hitch to toss and turn until she drifted off into an uneasy and troubled sleep.

* * *

 _ **March 6th, Late Morning… The Wings of Freedom Bar & Tavern**_

* * *

"Ow!" Armin yelped loudly as the dull ache in his ribs transformed into a white hot flash of pain. His hand shot up to his side to protect the injury from any further abuse. Abuse, by the way, that was being hurled at him by his so-called colleague.

"Still hurts huh?" Ymir joked, grinning widely at her tormentee, her hand still posed and ready to jump at the chance to poke him again.

" _Yes._ " Armin hissed, his eyes shut tightly, "Yes, it still hurts. A lot."

"Well that's what you get for pissing off the boss, shrimp." Ymir snickered harshly as she lead the way through the open trap door leading from the _Freedom's_ basement. Armin breathed a sigh of relief as the pain faded away again and followed Ymir up the short but steep metal staircase.

Armin's entire being stank of oil and grime thanks to the two of them just finishing an exhausting six hours of weapons maintenance. Growing up in a Staten island suburb, Armin had never handled a gun before and he had always been rather nervous around them. But after having just serviced at least three dozen firearms and filling over a hundred separate magazines, his fear had been replaced by cautious intrigue.

 _I should ask Mikasa if she could take me to a gun range. She's always been a good teacher and I'll need to learn how to shoot anyway. It'd be nice to spend some time with her and… Eren._

Suddenly the idea of spending time with his foster family didn't seem so appealing anymore.

"Hey, move your broken ass."

"Huh?" Armin shuffled to the side, realizing that he had been standing in the way of the trap door, "Sorry."

Ymir let out a huff as she slammed the trap door shut with a loud _clang_ that made Armin's bones rattle. She dusted off her hands and yawned loudly before declaring, "Finally! Jesus, I think I went through like a million pairs of gloves down there! I'm going home, I'm fucking tired as fuck."

"Don't we also have to do a vehicle inspection today?" Armin pointed out hesitantly, quietly eager to learn something new despite his exhaustion. He never got to go 'hands on' with an engine either.

"Nope! That shit can wait until tomorrow, I'm going home to watch TV and bang my girlfriend." Ymir drawled before throwing Armin a sloppy salute and leaving through the garage side door, "See ya later alligator."

Armin waved back idly, his shoulders slumped with fatigue.

 _I should probably get some rest before the customers start showing up. I might pass out if I keep pushing myself…_

Rubbing the heel of his hand across his eye, Armin made his way back to the guest room with every intention of huddling away under the sheets and sleeping away his boredom and discomfort.

His intentions were ruined when he pushed the door open to find a certain blonde sitting cross legged in the middle of his bed with a book in her lap.

Annie glanced up from her reading and greeted him with a noncommittal brink and a quiet, "...Morning."

"Uh… Good morning." Armin's hand snaked up to awkwardly rub the back of his neck before he could stop it, he was still unsure of where he stood with her, "I uh… Didn't expect to see you here."

"I work here." Annie replied, her eyes once again on the book in front of her.

"Well yeah... I know you -um- work h-here and all...but what I meant was...uh." Armin stuttered his way through the thoughts that refused to align themselves in his head, "I mean, I didn't expect to see you here… this early… in my room."

Annie tossed the book away onto the nightstand and gave him her full attention. For a long few moments she watched him without a word, and Armin had the strange feeling that he was being sized up again. He hoped he hadn't offended her in some way.

Finally Annie signed and released him from her chilly gaze, "Ackermann ordered me to show up early today."

"Oh! I didn't know Mikasa was here too." Armin exclaimed.

"She's not. She got called away to deal with something an hour ago." Annie huffed, resting her cheek in her hand, "I'm stuck here until she gets back."

"Ah. That explains the book." Armin cringed internally at his lame attempt at conversation, but his guest didn't seem to mind.

"Nothing else to do here besides get hammered." She deadpanned, before throwing another dismissive glance at him, "You can come in you know."

"Huh?" Realizing that he was still standing in the doorway like child waiting outside the principal's office, Armin shook his head and stepped inside, making sure to leave the door open just in case.

He gestured to the bed and asked, "Do you mind if I-"

"It's your room. Do what you want."

Armin smiled gratefully and sat down heavily on the mattress before easing himself onto his back, wincing when his ribs protested at the movement. Annie's keen eyes noticed his discomfort but she made no move to help him, opting instead to idly watch him.

The two of them stared at each other quietly for a few seconds before Armin smiled and shyly pointed to her jawline, "Your bruise is starting to fade."

The look in Annie's eyes shifted from cold disinterest to a sort of temperate curiosity. She unconsciously ran her fingers across the yellow and purple injury, the bruise stinging lightly at the light contact. Her wince of discomfort caught his attention next.

"Does it still hurt?" He asked quietly, "It didn't look like Eren pulled any punches…"

Annie shook her head for a moment before tilting her head and letting out a quiet snort.

"You're not going to stop are you?" She sighed, shifting her body so that she was leaning closer to him.

"Stop what?" Armin felt unease begin to well up in his chest, worried that Annie had found something else to taunt him with.

"Being nice, treating me like I'm just another lost soul that's trying find my way into the light." Once again her voice took on that mocking cadence but at least it wasn't aimed at him this time, "You keep ignoring the advice I gave you."

"To quit while I'm ahead?" Armin pushed himself unto his elbows, a wince passing over the concern on his face. His frown deepened when Annie nodded lightly at his words.

"Why do you keep telling me that?" He huffed, dropping his gaze so that Annie couldn't see the hurt and frustration in his eyes, "I-"

Armin's words cut off in his throat when he felt Annie's slim fingers slide over his torso, tracing around the bruises that decorated his side. Armin stayed completely still, too stunned to even notice that he was holding his breath.

Despite his obvious uncertainty and without offering any explanation Annie silently pulled Armin's shirt up to his chest. She examined the damage she had inflicted with an air of detached professional curiosity, as if she was a coroner investigating a corpse. Armin watched carefully, unsure of what to do, while her calloused fingers ghosted over his ribs.

"I thought the answer would be obvious by now." She told him softly, "Look what happened the last time you tried to help me."

"Is that concern I'm hearing?" He teased her quietly with a smile that was quickly replaced with a grimace when one of Annie's nails scraped roughly against his damaged skin.

"Oops." She replied, a playful lilt creeping into her frigid tone as she drew tiny circles across his side, "How clumsy of me."

"Don't… Don't worry about it." Armin rasped, releasing his hold of the sheets grasped tightly in his hands. He cursed himself for showing pain so easily, especially since Annie's nail didn't even leave a mark on his torso. Annie snorted and withdrew her hand from his body, and he let out a sigh of relief as the discomfort faded away.

 _I have to get better at hiding my feelings. Especially since I'm apparently working with a bunch of low-key sadists._

Annie clucked her tongue and pushed her bangs behind her ear, highlighting her sharp features inadvertently. Armin felt his pulse quickened noticeably, making his heart pound in his chest. She really was captivating, even if her personality was about as pleasant as falling through ice.

A muffled _beep_ ing noise distracted Armin from his thoughts as Annie pulled an outdated and cracked phone from her pocket, the slight furrowing of her brow told him that she didn't like what she saw. With a frustrated sigh, she tossed her phone carelessly away from herself.

"Was that from Mikasa?" Armin asked, his curiosity once again spurring him to stick his nose where it didn't belong.

"Nobody important." Annie answered frostily, "What's it to you?"

Armin's face blanched at the threat in her voice, and once again he fell back on his tried and true method of 'keep apologizing until they're not angry'.

"Sorry! I didn't mean to pry." A nervous smile appearing on his face, "Bad habit of mine. Sorry."

Annie rolled her eyes at his apology, but thankfully some of her earlier hostility faded away. Armin let out a internal sigh of relief, it seemed that she wasn't as unapproachable as she made herself out to be. He got the feeling that she was just suspicious of the world, and from what little of her world he had glimpsed, Armin could sympathize with that view.

Mikasa had told him that Annie had just recently been released from prison, and that one of her former friends had helped put her there. At the time Armin hadn't thought too much about it, but now he could clearly see how that experience affected Annie. She was always on guard, never bothering to socialize with other members and constantly regarding everyone with the same cold suspicion. He couldn't imagine how lonely it must be for her to be constantly alone, with no one to lean on or laugh with. Her flippant disinterest and apathetic demeanor didn't earn her any favors either.

 _Speaking of favors…_

"Hey, Annie." He inquired, "Did you mean it when you told me that you would teach me how to fight?"

The blonde woman raised a brow in interest, "I did. What of it?"

"That was really nice of you." Armin admitted, his gaze locked on the ceiling above him as if it was the most interesting thing in the world all of a sudden, "Thank you."

Annie didn't reply immediately, and Armin felt his stomach fill with more and more butterflies every second.

"I'm not teaching you to be nice." Annie hesitated for moment before continuing, "I'm repaying what I owe. Don't read too much into it."

Armin blinked in surprise before covertly glancing over at her. Annie had cast her eyes away from him, a certain softness overshadowing her angled features.

"Doesn't mean I shouldn't be grateful." Armin pointed out gently, letting his eyes flutter shut with exhaustion.

"We'll see how grateful you are after my first lesson." Annie told him, "Who knows? I might just kill you to get back at Jaeger."

He opened his eyes to see the corner of Annie's lip raised into a deadpan smirk. Realization dawned upon him that the threat he had just received was Annie's idea of "friendly teasing". Yes, her jokes were morbid and somewhat threatening but at least she felt comfortable enough to make them now. Maybe one day he'd even see her laughing _with_ him.

 _Baby steps, Armin. Baby steps._

* * *

 _ **IA* - Internal Affairs**_

 _ **ACS* - Administration for Children's Services**_

 _ **Police Codes used-**_

 _ **10-4:**_ ** _Acknowledgment_**

 _ **10-52D: Domestic Dispute**_

 _ **10-54S6: Ambulance Case, Severe, Domestic/Family related**_

 ** _Disclaimer_** _ **: I do not own Attack on Titan or its characters. Nor do I own anything in New York City.**_

 ** _Yes, I'm 27 days late uploading. No I do not have good reason. By the way, I'm planning on chilling out with the dates in the fic and replace most of the date and times from numbers to things like "Later that evening." I feel that would a lot simpler to write with._**

 _ **Reading Rainbow: Thanks for reading and I'm happy you enjoyed it! I have plans in my head for Shadis and some of the Garrison members, don't worry!**_

 _ **Amogo21: Thanks dude! Hope you enjoyed the new chapter!**_


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